FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


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POEMS 


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NOV    6   1933  ' 


OF        // 
MARY  ARTEMISIA  LATHBURY 

CHAUTAUQUA  LAUREATE 


WITH  INTRODUCTIONS  BY 

BISHOP  JOHN  H.  VINCENT 

CHANCELLOR  OF  CHAUTAUQUA  UNIVERSITY 
AND 

W.  GARRETT  HORDER 

SACRED  ANTHOLOGIST 


ALSO 
A  SKETCH  OF  HER  LIFE  BY 

MISS  FRANCES  E.  WILLARD 


THE  NUNC  LICET  PRESS 

920  NICOLLET  AVE..  MINNEAPOLIS.  MINN. 


Copyright  by 

The  Nunc  Licet  Press 

1915 


WILLIAM  F.   FELL  COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA 


- 


Through  the  long  levels  of  the  land 
Life  leads  two  pilgrims  by  the  hand. 

And  ever  as  they  walk,  the  eyes  of  one 

Turn  backward  to  the  setting  of  the  sun. 
The  other  eastward,  towards  the  hills  of  dawn, 

Urges  the  steps  of  Life, 

Who,  steadfast  in  the  strife, 
Though  ever  eastward,  ever  westward  drawn, 

Binds  each  to  each  with  bands 

Her  soft,  insistent  hands; 

Recalls  them  to  the  bird-songs  near  and  sweet; 

The   plants    of   use   and    beauty   springing 
round  their  feet. 

Life  leans  and  listens  to  the  tale,  thrice  told, 
The  creed,  the  song,  the  legend  of  the  Old; 
But  towards  the  east,  the  sunrise,  and  the  dew, 
Her  heart  leaps  forward  with  the  radiant  new. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction  by  Bishop  Vincent 1 1 

Introduction  by  Doctor  Horder 14 

Sketch  of  Miss  Lathbury  by  Miss  Willard 17 

Chautauqua  carols: 

The  Feast  of  Years 25 

Arise  and  Shine 27 

Join,  O  Friends,  in  a  Memory  Song 30 

Evening  Praise * 31 

Forest  Song,  Evening 33 

The  Nameless  Fold 35 

A  Hymn  of  Life 37 

A  Cradle  Song  of  the  Soul 38 

Break  Thou  the  Bread 39 

Arise,  All  Souls,  Arise 40 

C.  L.  S.  C.  Anniversary  Poem 42 

0  Wondrous  World 43 

Chautauqua  Doxology 46 

Lyrics  of  Nature: 

1  Wonder  Why 49 

All  Things  are  Yours 50 

A  Butterfly 51 

Easter  Wings 53 

The  Sun  God 55 

God's  Birds 56 

Mountains  of  the  Lord 59 

Poor  Puck 61 

The  Fairy  Wedding 64 

In  the  High  Valley 67 

An  Open  Secret 69 

The  Sunset  of  the  Year 70 

To  an  Oak 72 

The  Wind  Harp 74 

The  Moon  Maid 76 

Daybreak 78 

Rise,  Flowers,  Rise! 79 

[7] 


PAGE 

A  White  Violet 81 

In  My  Garden 83 

The  Lesson  of  the  Trees 85 

Will-o'-the-Wisp 89 

"Thy  Way  is  in  the  Sea" 90 

A  Deep  Sea  Dream 92 

"Earth  Delivered  Sings  to  God" 94 

About  Our  Apple  Tree 96 

Nox  Benigna 97 

Songs  of  Labor  and  Other  Poems: 

Song  of  Hope 101 

The  Wheel  in  Art 103 

The  Rubaiyat 107 

Lost — A  Child ! no 

A  Spinning  Song 112 

The  End  of  the  Street 114 

The  Golden  Age  is  Coming 117 

By  This  We  Conquer 119 

Hymn  for  Home  Missions 121 

Hymns  and  Sacred  Songs: 

Come,  O  Creator! 125 

The  Latter  Day 126 

Lift  Up,  O  Zion! 127 

When  the  Billows 129 

Door  of  Hope 130 

Keep  Thy  Heart 131 

I  Hear  Thee  Calling 132 

Heart  of  Jesus 133 

"I  Am  the  Bread  of  Life" 134 

The  Coming  of  the  King 136 

Easter  Carol 138 

Benediction  Hymn 140 

My  Soul  Fling  Wide  The  Gates 141 

O  Face  of  Love! 143 

Easter  Bells 144 

The  Child  at  the  Door 146 

The  Holy  House 148 

In  Time  of  Failure 150 

A  Legend  of  Saint  John 152 

Easter  With  the  Little  Ones 155 

The  Prodigal 156 

Out  of  the  East 158 

The  Two  Watches 159 


PAGE 

Bethlehem 161 

In  Bethlehem 163 

Aspiration 165 

Resurrection 167 

Filled 170 

The  Life 172 

The  Inner  Sanctuary 174 

Out  of  Darkness  Into  Light: 

My  Life 179 

Dawn 180 

With  Books 181 

Altar  Building 183 

In  Shadow 185 

Waiting 187 

Daybreak 188 

Sunward 190 

Personal : 

In  Memory  of  Lucy  Webb  Hayes 193 

To  F.  E.  W.,  1 839-1889 195 

Among  the  Children: 

A  Dream  of  Fair  Children • 199 

The  Hospital  Collection 201 

Seven  Little  Cooks 203 

The  One  Mother 206 

Little  Brother  Butterfly 208 

The  Shadow 210 

Work  and  Play 212 

Release 213 

Little  Captain  Courageous 214 

Dorothy 215 

Two  Pictures 217 

Seven  Little  Maids: 

Fair  of  Face 224 

Full  of  Grace 225 

A  Child  of  Woe 226 

Far  to  Go 227 

Loving  and  Giving 228 

A  Little  Housemaid 229 

Wise,  and  Bonny,  and  Good,  and  Gay 230 

Idyls  of  the  Months 232 

[9] 


April  Skies:  page 

After  Sleep 250 

In  Wonderland 251 

In  the  Meadow 252 

A  Little  Knight 253 

In  Dreamland 254 

An  April  Shower 255 

Puss 256 

Little  Bo-peep 257 

By  the  Sea 258 

In  a  Garden 259 

In  Fairyland 260 

In  Shadow 261 

From  Meadow-sweet  to  Mistletoe: 

Prefatory  Song 265 

"Sweets  for  the  Sweet " 267 

A  Sea  Song 268 

Katrine's  Window  Garden 269 

In  the  Daisy  Snow 270 

Angels 271 

A  Five  O'clock  Tea 272 

The  Peach  on  the  Wall 274 

Bubbles 276 

The  "Tick-it ."  Man 277 

Christmas  Gifts 279 

Under  the  Mistletoe 281 

Little  April 283 

Two  White  Violets 285 

Running  Away 286 

Bees  in  the  Clover 287 

The  Shipwreck 288 

The  Water-maid 290 

Finis 292 


[10: 


NEXT  thing  to  being  a  gifted,  self- 
forgetting,  devout  spirit  is  to  know 
and  be  enrolled  as  a  friend  of  such  a 
favored  personality.  And  how  difficult 
it  is  for  a  friend  of  such  a  friend  to  do  full 
justice  to  one  so  well  known,  highly  hon- 
ored, royally  endowed,  who  passing  from 
earth  leaves  a  reputation  not  only  unsullied 
but  radiant  and  full  of  inspiration,  a  repu- 
tation that  in  itself  is  a  benediction  to  be 
repeated  while  books  are  read  and  songs 
are  sung.  One  of  the  most  charming  illus- 
trations of  such  perpetuated  influence  we 
have  in  the  career  of  Mary  A.  Lathbury 
who  will  long  be  accounted  as  the  Poetess 
of  Chautauqua,  the  writer  of  "Day  is 
Dying  in  the  West,"  "  Break  Thou  the 
Bread  of  Life,"  "Join  O  Friends  in  a 
Memory  Song,"  "The  Song  of  Welcome," 
on  the  occasion  of  President  Grant's  visit 
to  Chautauqua  in  1875  and  many  other 
immortal  hymns. 

It  is  not  easy  to  write  worthily  with  the 
[iil 


memory  of  Mary  Lathbury  burning  in  my 
heart.  I  believed  in  her,  loved  her,  in  a 
justifiable  way  worshipped  her.  How 
lovely  she  was!  how  true!  how  gifted! 
When  the  divine  Light  and  Life  enter  and 
dominate  a  personality  God  does,  in  a 
measure,  re-incarnate  Himself.  As  the 
glory  of  the  sun  may  shine  like  a  diamond 
in  a  drop  of  water,  and  as  in  a  diamond  the 
sun  may  flash  and  tremble  and  dazzle  the 
human  eye,  so  may  the  Divine  Spirit  en- 
ter, possess  and  dominate  a  human  soul. 
She  lived  in  the  spiritual  world,  recognized 
the  beautiful  harmonies  between  the  realm 
of  matter  and  that  of  spirit,  not  failing  to 
interpret  the  one  in  the  light  of  the  other. 
She  had  visions,  deep  subjective  experi- 
ences, was  in  constant  communion  with 
heaven,  knew  the  deepest,  sweetest  feelings 
of  a  spirit  that  had  with  closed  eyes  looked 
into  the  very  face  of  the  invisible  God. 

She  was  both  poetess  and  saint.  Hers 
was  a  rare  spirit.  Some  things  she  wrote 
will  last  for  ages.  Chautauqua  on  its 
broadest,  deepest  spiritual  side  appealed 
to  Mary  Lathbury.  She  entered  and  led 
[12] 


many  others  into  the  Sanctum  Sanctorum, 
the  Place  of  Surrender  and  Covenant  of 
Peace.  The  Old  Chautauquans  will  never 
forget  her  and  the  new  Chautauquans  as 
they  sing  her  songs  will  inbreathe  her  de- 
vout, sweet  spirit  and  thus  be  led  into  the 
deeper,  richer  life  that  Chautauqua  seeks 
to  represent  and  to  inspire. 

John  H.  Vincent 

5700  Blackstone  Avenue, 
Chicago,  III. 


13 


I  AM  delighted  that  the  poems  of  Mary 
Artemisia  Lathbury  are  at  last  to  be 
gathered  into  a  volume  and  made  ac- 
cessible to  the  lovers  of  devout  poetry  on 
both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  When  she  was 
still  with  us  I  strongly  urged  her  to  collect 
and  issue  her  verse,  and  thought  I  had 
succeeded,  but  I  suppose  her  beautiful 
modesty  stood  in  the  way.  Now  that  she 
has  passed  from  us  the  way  is  open  and  I 
rejoice  that  her  like-minded  and  like- 
hearted  brother  is  doing  the  work.  It 
would  have  been  shameful  if  verse  so  dis- 
tinctive, graceful  and  spiritual  had  not  been 
gathered  and  made  accessible  in  a  volume. 
To  an  editor  who  has  had  to  go  over  vast 
collections  of  sacred  verse,  most  of  which 
are  echoes  and  not  voices,  it  is  a  perfect 
joy  to  light  on  verses  with  such  individu- 
ality of  thought  and  style.  And  I  never 
experienced  this  more  fully  than  in  the 
case  of  Miss  Lathbury.  Perhaps  I  may 
tell  of  the  curious  way  in  which  I  became 
[Hi 


acquainted  with  what  is  probably  her  finest 
hymn,  "Day  is  Dying  in  the  West."  One 
day  a  parcel  of  books  reached  me  wrapped 
in  old  sheets  of  printed  matter.  Among 
these  was  an  order  of  first  lines  of  some 
hymnal  issues  in  America.  My  eye  lighted 
on  the  first  line  of  the  hymn  to  which  I 
have  referred.  I  said  to  myself,  "Surely 
this  must  be  a  fine  hymn,"  but  whose  it 
was,  or  where  it  could  be  found  I  did  not 
know.  Not  long  after  Miss  Willard  sent 
me  some  recently  published  hymnals,  and 
in  one  of  them  I  found  the  hymn  I  desired 
to  see,  and  found  that  it  was  all  and  more 
than  all  I  expected.  Indeed  in  my  judg- 
ment it  is  one  of  the  finest  and  most  dis- 
tinctive hymns  of  modern  times.  It  de- 
serves to  rank  with,  "Lead  Kindly  Light' ' 
of  Cardinal  Newman  for  its  picturesque- 
ness  and  allusiveness,  and  above  all  for 
this,  that  devout  souls  no  matter  what 
their  distinctive  beliefs  can  through  it 
voice  their  deepest  feelings  and  aspira- 
tions. Miss  Lathbury  was  an  artist  who 
produced  pictures  that  the  eye  could  see, 
but  she  was  no  less  an  artist  through  her 
[i5l 


verse  as  the  ear  could  hear.  But  deeper 
than  the  artist  in  her  was  the  spiritual  ele- 
ment, and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  she  gave 
to  the  world  verse  as  spiritual  as  it  was 
beautiful.  "Too  many  writers  of  devout 
verse  forget  that  the  wings  of  devotion 
should  also  be  wings  of  though t,"  as  my 
dear  departed  friend  George  Matheson, 
"The  Blessed  Preacher  of  Edinburgh, " 
who  had  eyes,  used  to  say.  The  Chau- 
tauqua Laureate  never  forgot,  and  there- 
fore the  world  is  not  likely  to  forget  her 
verse. 

The  collection  of  her  verse  will  be  placed 
on  my  shelves  by  the  side  of  other  dear 
departed  friends  who  left  a  like  precious 
legacy  of  song:  "The  Rose's  Diary,"  of 
Henry  Septimus  Sutton,  "A  Pageant,"  of 
Christina  Rossetti,  and  "Sacred  Songs," 
of  George  Matheson,  and  as  I  look  upon 
them  I  shall  think  of  the  lovely  lives  lost 
to  earth  but  which  have  entered  the  land 
beyond  the  veil. 

W.  Garrett  Horder 

The  Manse,  Ealing.  W. 
London,  England 

[16] 


A  GROUP  of  missionaries  was  stand- 
ing at  sunset  on  a  beautiful  mountain 
in  Japan  looking  down  upon  the  city  of 
Kyoto  and  as  their  hearts  rejoiced  in  the 
delightful  landscape  and  soft  evening  air 
they  broke  forth  into  singing  that  match- 
less evening  hymn  which  Edward  Everett 
Hale  told  a  Chautauqua  audience  would  be 
loved  and  sung  "as  long  as  Chautauqua 
shall  endure' ' — "Day  is  Dying  in  the 
West."  Of  its  author  he  added,  "She  has 
marvellous  lyric  force  which  not  five  people 
in  a  century  show,  and  her  chance  of  having 
a  name  two  hundred  years  hence  is  better 
than  that  of  any  writer  in  America  today." 
Thus  have  the  spiritual  songs  of  Mary  A. 
Lathbury  gone  to  the  ends  of  the  earth; 
but  to  hear  them  at  their  best  one  must 
join  in  the  grand  anthem  in  the  amphi- 
theatre of  beautiful  Chautauqua  where 
almost  all  of  them  have  first  been  sung. 
Her  name  has  been  as  closely  linked  with 
that  great  summer  camp  as  are  those  of 
[17] 


Lewis  Miller,  Bishop  Vincent  and  Edward 
Everett  Hale;  indeed  she  is  the  poet  lau- 
reate of  Chautauqua.  In  the  centennial 
year  of  the  Republic,  1876,  the  hymn  fur- 
nished   by   her    for    the    Fourth   of    July 

"  Lift  up,  lift  up  thy  voice  in  singing, 
Dear  land,  with  strength  lift  up  thy  voice," 

has  always  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  most 
complete  and  pathetic  utterance  of  that 
sublime  period ;  her  autumn  hymn  on  page 
66  of  Anna  Gordon's  White  Ribbon  Hymnal 
entitled,  "The  Sunset  of  the  Year,"  is  sung 
at  firesides  in  a  hundred  homes.  My  first 
knowledge  of  Miss  Lathbury  was  in  1874 
when  on  a  visit  to  New  York  in  search  of 
Bishop  Vincent  whom  I  did  not  find.  But 
I  did  find  a  tender  gracious  woman  of  re- 
markable refinement  in  the  editorial  office. 
From  that  day  we  were  like  sisters  and  I 
can  never  tell  the  good  she  has  done  me  in 
all  things  pertaining  to  Christian  character 
and  work.  We  had  planned  summer  trips 
together  several  times  only  to  have  the 
hope  deferred  by  reason  of  the  constant 
calls  that  came  to  me  for  work. 
[18] 


When  she  was  still  young,  Mary  A. 
Lathbury — the  child  of  devoted  Christian 
parents,  who  never  in  her  life  had  known 
the  temptations  of  the  great  world,  felt  a 
special  call  in  her  heart  to  dedicate  herself 
to  God,  and  she  has  told  me  that  as  she 
knelt  in  the  performance  of  this  holy  vow, 
something  seemed  to  say  to  her,  "Re- 
member, my  child,  that  you  have  a  gift  of 
weaving  fancies  into  verse,  and  a  gift  with 
the  pencil  of  producing  visions  that  come 
to  your  heart;  consecrate  these  to  me  as 
thoroughly  and  as  definitely  as  you  do 
your  inmost  spirit.' '  This  she  did  then 
and  there. 

Mary  A.  Lathbury  was  born  in  Man- 
chester, N.  Y.,  in  1841 ;  as  a  child  she  was 
fond  of  reading,  writing,  picture-making 
and  illustrating  her  own  poems.  When 
eighteen  years  of  age  she  went  to  an  art 
school  in  Worcester,  Mass.,  where  she  en- 
joyed exceptional  advantages.  A  year 
later  she  went  to  Newbury,  Vt.,  where  in 
the  Conference  Seminary  she  taught  draw- 
ing and  painting  and  the  French  language. 
Some  time  after  she  went  to  Ft.  Edward 
[19] 


Institute  where  she  taught  five  years,  and 
still  later  to  Drew  Ladies'  Seminary,  Car- 
mel,  N.  Y.,  where  she  spent  six  years  doing 
faithful  work  and  growing  in  literary  and 
artistic  knowledge.  She  was  connected  for 
some  years  as  contributor  to  St.  Nicholas, 
Harper's  Young  People,  and  Wide  Awake. 
"Fleda  and  the  Voice,"  a  book  of  exquisite 
fairy  tales,  illustrated  by  herself,  was 
published  about  this  time.  Other  books 
followed  both  in  color  and  in  black  and 
white,  "Out  of  Darkness  into  Light," 
"From  Meadowsweet  to  Mistletoe," 
"Seven  Little  Maids,"  " Ring-Round-a- 
Rosy,"  and  others.  She  has  written  many 
hymns,  of  which  "Day  is  Dying  in  the 
West"  and  "Break  Thou  the  Bread  of 
Life,"  are  perhaps  the  best  known. 

Miss  Lathbury  had  not  only  the  poet's 
pen  and  the  artist's  pencil  but  the  eye  of  the 
seer  and  an  ability  to  put  her  wise  thoughts 
into  clear  and  convincing  English.  A  high, 
courageous  faith,  a  loyalty  to  the  best  ideals, 
a  self-forgetfulness  that  was  sublime,  and 
a  devotion  to  the  truth  that  gave  inspira- 
tion to  all  with  whom  she  came  in  contact, 
[20] 


characterized  "our  Mary"  from  the  be- 
ginning and  will  do  so  in  ever  increasing 
measure. 

Frances  E.  Willard 

Eagle's  Nest,  Twilight  Park, 
New  York 


[21] 


CHAUTAUQUA  CAROLS. 


THE  FEAST  OF  YEARS. 

i 874-1 899 

FAIR  Chautauqua!  sacred  fane, 
Lift  thy  leafy  gates  again! 
From  the  limits  of  the  land, 
Hope  and  Memory,  hand  in  hand, 
Come  with  songs,  and  smiles,  and  tears, 
Come  to  keep  the  Feast  of  Years. 

Fair  Chautauqua!  years  have  sped: 
Heaven-born,  and  forest  bred, 
Grown  to  greatness,  beauty,  strength, 
Thou  hast  proved  thy  birth  at  length. 
Through  thy  human  grace  is  wrought 
God's  eternal  love  and  thought. 

Fair  Chautauqua!  these  are  thine, — 
Builders  of  thy  early  shrine; 
Keepers  of  the  seals  are  these, — 
Bearers  of  the  sacred  keys; 
These  thy  prophets,  sages,  seers, 
Gather  to  the  Feast  of  Years. 
[25] 


Fair  Chautauqua!  always  ours, 
Count  thy  camps,  and  tell  thy  towers. 
From  a  hundred  hills  they  rise, 
Under  gray  or  orient  skies; 
O'er  a  hundred  gates  has  fame 
Carved  the  letters  of  thy  name. 

Fair  Chautauqua!  spread  thy  hands- 
Call  us  through  the  listening  lands; 
Bid  us  rise  and  build  with  thee 
Highways  through  the  Century. 
We  are  ready  at  thy  call, — 
Gracious  Mother  of  us  all! 


[26] 


ARISE  AND  SHINE.* 

LIFT  up,  lift  up  thy  voice  with  singing, 
-^     Dear    land,   with    strength    lift    up 
thy  voice! 
The  kingdoms  of  the  earth  are  bringing 
Their  treasures  to  thy  gates — rejoice! 

Chorus 
Arise  and  shine  in  youth  immortal, 

Thy  light  is  come,  thy  King  appears! 
Beyond  the  Century's  swinging  portal, 
Breaks    a    new    dawn — the    thousand 
years ! 

Yet  who  renowned  in  state  or  story, 
Shall  enter  while  the  Kingliest  waits? 

What  star  attracts  thee  when  His  glory 
Shines  through  the  half  unfolded  gates? 

— Chorus 

*  Chautauqua  Centennial  Year  Hymn. 

[27] 


Through  wave  and  wilderness  He  sought 
thee, 

For  thou  wast  precious  in  His  sight; 

Shone  on  thy  night  of  blood,  and  brought 
thee 

Through  pain  and  peril  to  the  light. 

— Chorus 


And  shall  His  flock  with  strife  be  riven? 

Shall  envious  lines  His  church  divide, 
When  He  the  Lord  of  earth  and  heaven, 

Stands  at  the  door  to  claim  His  bride? 


-Chorus 


Lift  up  the  gates!  bring  forth  oblations! 

One    crowned    with    crowns    a    message 
brings. 

His  word,  a  sword  to  smite  the  nations; 

His    name — The    Christ,    the    King    of 
kings ! 

— Chorus 

[28] 


He  comes!     Let  all  the  earth  adore  Him! 

The  path  His  human  nature  trod 
Spreads  to  a  royal  realm  before  Him, 

The  Life  of  life,  the  Word  of  God! 

— Chorus 

May  igtk,  1897. 
Along  all  ways,  within,  without, 

All  paths  through  earth  and  sea, 
Our  song  divine  o'ermasters  doubt: — 

"The  best  is  yet  to  be." 

Beside  the  roar  of  restless  feet, 

The  clamor  and  the  strife, 
A  voice  is  crying,  clear  and  sweet: — 

"The  only  wealth  is  Life." 


[29  J 


JOIN,  O   FRIENDS,  IN   A   MEMORY 
SONG. 

JOIN,  O  friends,  in  a  memory  song, 
A  song  of  service,  of  faith,  of  praise; 
Of  love  that  gathers  its  fiber  strong 

From  forest  soil  and  Chautauquan  days. 

Chorus 

Sing,  O  sing!  for  the  Word  shall  spring 

From  seed  to  scion,  from  bud  to  bloom, 

Since  life  immortal  the  Lord  did  bring 

From  the  Seed  that  fell  in  an  open 
tomb. 

Join  in  a  hymn  of  hope,  O  friends, 
The  Lord  is  coming  His  own  to  bless, 

And  tried  and  true  is  the  band  He  sends 
To  open  a  way  in  the  wilderness. 

— Chorus 

After  the  brier,  the  thorn,  the  weed, 

Shall  spring  a  plant  of  a  wondrous  birth ; 

And  Love — the  flow'r  of  a  heavenly  seed— 

With   bloom   and   beauty  shall   fill   the 
earth.  — Chorus 

[30] 


EVENING  PRAISE. 

DAY  is  dying  in  the  West; 
Heav'n  is  touching  earth  with  rest: 
Wait  and  worship  while  the  night 
Sets  her  evening  lamps  alight 
Thro'  all  the  sky. 

Chorus 
Holy,  holy,  holy  Lord  God  of  Hosts! 
Heav'n  and  earth  are  full  of  Thee! 
Heav'n  and  earth  are  praising  Thee, 
O  Lord  most  high ! 

Lord  of  life,  beneath  the  dome 
Of  the  universe,  Thy  home, 
Gather  us  who  seek  Thy  face 
To  the  fold  of  Thy  embrace, 
For  Thou  art  nigh. 

While  the  deepening  shadows  fall, 
Heart  of  Love,  enfolding  all, 
Thro'  the  glory  and  the  grace 
Of  the  stars  that  veil  Thy  face, 
Our  hearts  ascend. 

[31  ] 


When  forever  from  our  sight 
Pass  the  stars — the  day — the  night- 
Lord  of  Angels,  on  our  eyes 
Let  Eternal  Morning  rise, 
And  shadows  end. 


[32  J 


FOREST  SONG,  EVENING. 

SOFT  thro'  the  fading  light 
Falls  the  twilight's  purple  veil; 
Far  o'er  the  waters  bright 

Flits  a  sunlit  sail. 
Hush!  while  the  daylight  dies; 

Evening  sounds  thro'  all  the  air 
Soft  on  the  silence  rise, 
Like  an  angel's  prayer. 

Arms  of  the  folding  trees 

Rock  the  restless  winds  to  sleep; 
Silent  the  birds  and  bees 
Sink  in  slumber  deep. 
'Rest,"  sings  the  forest,  "rest," 

Listen  to  her  lullaby ; 
Rest  on  the  Father's  breast, 
'Neath  His  watchful  eye. 
3  [  33  1 


Fold,  then,  your  weary  wings, 
Troubled  heart  and  busy  brain, 
"Rest,  rest,"  the  forest  sings, 
Rest  from  care  and  pain. 
"Rest,"  sings  the  woodland  still, 
While  the  silent  shadows  fall, 
Rest,  rest  from  ev'ry  ill, 
God  is  over  all. 


[:ul 


THE  NAMELESS  FOLD.* 

O  SHEPHERD  of  the  Nameless  Fold, 
The  blessed  Church  to  be, 
Our  hearts  with  love  and  longing  turn 

To  find  their  rest  in  thee; 
"Thy  kingdom  come,"  its  heavenly  walls 

Unseen  around  us  rise, 
And  deep  in  loving  human  hearts 
Its  broad  foundation  lies. 

From  out  our  low,  unloving  state, 

Our  centuries  of  strife, 
Thy  hand,  O  Shepherd  of  the  Flock, 

Is  lifting  into  life; 
From  all  our  old  divided  ways 

And  fruitless  fields,  we  turn 
To  Thy  dear  feet,  the  simple  way 

Of  Christian  love  to  learn. 

*  Chautauqua,  1881. 

[35] 


O  holy  kingdom,  happy  fold, 

O  blessed  Church  to  be, 
Our  hearts  in  love  and  worship  turn 

To  find  themselves  in  thee! 
Thy  bounds  are  known  to  God  alone, 

For  they  are  set  above; 
The  length,  the  breadth,  the  height  are  one, 

And  measured  by  His  love. 


f36] 


A  HYMN  OF  LIFE.* 

LORD  of  all  life,  the  near,  the  far; 
4     From  the  low  glow-worm  to  the  star ; 
Within  Thy  works  Thyself  we  see, 
And  with  all  angels  worship  Thee. 

In  age-abiding  rocks  that  bear 
An  elder  scripture  written  there; 
In  the  red  hearth-glow,  and  the  flame 
Of  countless  suns  we  read  Thy  name. 

The  crystal  and  the  daisy  grow 
From  heavenly  types  the  angels  know; 
And  every  weed  and  common  clod 
Is  crowded  with  the  thoughts  of  God. 

O  heavenly  Teacher!  Saviour  dear! 
To  thought  so  far,  to  love  so  near! 
Tho'  lost  in  Thy  immensity, 
Our  hearts  have  found  a  Home  in  Thee. 

♦Chautauqua,  1894. 
[37] 


A  CRADLE  SONG  OF  THE  SOUL. 

NOW  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
In  Thy  shadows  soft  and  deep, 
I  pray  Thee,  Lord,  my  soul  to  keep. 
I  lay  me,  Lord, 

Among  Thy  shadows  soft,  and  dark,  and 
deep. 

I  pray  Thee,  Lord, 

A  helpless  soul  that  leans  on  Thee  to  keep. 

If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 
For  Thy  unfailing  mercy's  sake, 
I  pray  Thee,  Lord,  my  soul  to  take. 

If  I  should  die 
In  some  deep  dream  and  never  here  awake, 

If  I  should  die, 

I   trust  Thee,  Lord,  my  sleeping  soul  to 
take. 


[38] 


BREAK  THOU  THE  BREAD. 

BREAK  Thou  the  bread  of  life, 
Dear  Lord,  to  me, 
As  Thou  didst  break  the  loaves 

Beside  the  sea; 
Within  Thy  sacred  page 

I  seek  Thee,  Lord; 
My  spirit  pants  for  Thee, 
O  living  Word ! 

Bless  Thou  the  truth,  O  Lord, 

To  me — to  me — 
As  Thou  didst  bless  the  bread 

By  Galilee; 
Then  shall  all  bondage  cease, 

All  fetters  fall ; 
And  I  shall  find  my  peace, 

MyAll-in-All! 


[39] 


ARISE,  ALL  SOULS,  ARISE. 

A  RISE,  all  souls,  arise! 
-*   ^-     The  watch  is  past; 
A  glory  breaks  above 
The  cloud  at  last. 
There  comes  a  rushing,  mighty  wind  again ! 
The  breath  of  God  is  still  the  life  of  men; 
The  day  ascending  fills  the  waiting  skies, 
All  souls,  arise! 

It  comes — the  breath  of  God — 

Through  all  the  skies! 
To  live — to  breathe  with  Him, 
All  souls,  arise! 
Open  the  windows  toward  the  shining  East ; 
Call  in  the  guests,  and  spread  a  wider  feast, 
The  Lord  pours  forth  as  sacramental  wine 
His  breath  divine ! 
[40] 


It  comes — a  larger  life, 

A  deeper  breath ; 
Arise,  all  souls,  arise, 

And  conquer  death ! 

Spread  forth  the  feast — the  dew  and  manna 
fall 

And  angels  whisper,  "Drink  ye  of  it,  all; — 

Drink  of  His  truth,  and  feed  upon  His  love, 

With  saints  above !" 

Arise,  all  souls,  arise 

To  meet  your  guest ! 
His  light  flames  from  the  East 

Unto  the  West. 

The  Lord  of  earth  and  heaven  is  at  the  door, 

He  comes  to  break   His  bread  to  all  His 
poor; 

Arise  and  serve  with  Him, — His  moment 
flies; 

All  souls,  arise! 


[41] 


C.  L.  S.  C.  ANNIVERSARY  POEM 

Written  for  the  tenth  anniversary  of  the  founding  of 

the  C.  L.  S.  C,  held  at  Chautauqua  on  August  n, 

1888. 

A  RIPPLE  rose  upon  a  lake 
And  left  a  circle  there. 
"A  pebble  from  the  shore/ '  some  said, 
"Sent  singing  through  the  air." 

But  one  whose  vision  sometimes  falls 

Beyond  our  common  ken 

Looked  up  and  said, 

"  A  thought  of  God  has  fallen  among  men." 


[42] 


O  WONDROUS  WORLD.* 

O  WONDROUS  world  within  a  world, 
How  beautiful  thou  art! 
What  high  desire,  what  holy  fire 

Lie  glowing  at  thy  heart! 
What  beauty,  silent  as  the  stars, 

Hangs  ever  o'er  thy  brow; 
What  youth,  as  old  as  Paradise, 
Springs  deathless  in  thee  now! 

When  did  we  learn  to  love  thy  face, 

The  music  of  thy  name? 
A  leafy  door  beside  the  shore 

Was  opened, — and  we  came. 
Our  lost  ideals,  grown  more  fair, 

Thronged  back  through  all  thy  ways: 
Another  life, — a  real  life, — 

Filled  all  our  empty  days. 

*  For  C.  L.  S.  C,  1903. 
[43] 


The  world  smiled,  saying,  " These  are  they 

Who  live  among  the  trees: 
Whose  thoughts  rise  higher  than  the  stars, 

And  soar  beyond  the  seas. 
They  do  not  weigh  their  wealth  with  gold, 

Or  measure  it  with  fame, 
They  speak  a  language  all  their  own: 

They  bear  a  hidden  name. 

So  weighs  the  world  its  own  true  life, 

Nor  knows  it  as  its  own, 
While,  Life  of  life,  above  all  strife 

God  waits  upon  His  throne. 
He  waits  until  the  world  of  things 

And  the  world  of  thoughts  shall  be 
Blent  in  that  perfect  thing  they  call 

The  new  humanity. 

What  joy  is  thine,  O  world  within, 

To  bear  thy  banners  out, 
And  then  to  claim  in  God's  dear  name 

The  last  and  least  redoubt. 
The  earth  is  His, — the  heavens  are  His, — 

He  stooped  to  make  them  one 
When  that  great  mystery  was  wrought 

That  gave  us  God  the  Son. 
[44] 


The  world  without  is  blind  to  thee, 

Thou  world  of  the  within, 
Yet  through  the  years  thy  saints  and  seers 

The  oracles  have  been. 
Still  trust  them  with  thy  prophecies, 

Still  through  them  breathe  thy  breath, 
Till  honor  blossoms  from  the  dust, 

And  life  springs  out  of  death. 


(45 


THE  CHAUTAUQUA  DOXOLOGY. 

PRAISE,  praise,  praise, 
Thou  Man  of  lowly  birth; 
The  hosts  of  heaven  praise  Thee. 
We  praise  Thee  from  the  earth! 
King  of  men  and  angels, 
Thy  reign  shall  never  cease; 
O  everlasting  Father, 
O  holy  Prince  of  Peace! 
Lord  over  all,  Lord  over  all, 
And  blessed  for  evermore! 

Amen. 


[46] 


LYRICS  OF  NATURE. 


I  WONDER  WHY. 

I  WONDER  why 
The  white  clouds  stay  up  in  the  sky! 
The  birds  light  low  that  fly  so  fast; 
The  downy  thistle  falls  at  last; 
But  the  fair  clouds  are  always  high. 
I  wonder  why! 

I  wonder  how 
The  little  bird  clings  to  its  bough ! 
Sometimes  at  night  when  I  awake 
And  hear  the  tree  tops  moan  and  shake, 
I  think  "How  sleep  the  birdies  now?" 
I  wonder  how ! 

I  wonder  why 
We  leave  the  fair  earth  for  the  sky! 
I  wish  that  we  might  always  stay ; 
That  the  dear  Lord  might  come  some  day, 
And  make  it  heaven!     Yet  we  must  die. 
I  wonder  why ! 
4  [49] 


ALL  THINGS  ARE  YOURS. 

ARISE  and  possess  the  land! 
L     Not  one  shall  fail  in  the  march  of  life 
Not  one  shall  fail  in  the  hour  of  strife, 
Who  trusts  in  the  Lord's  right  hand. 
Arise  and  possess  the  land. 

All  hail,  all  hail  to  the  New! 
The  future  lies  like  a  world  newborn 
All  steeped  in  sunshine  and  dews  of  morn, 

And  arched  with  a  cloudless  blue. 

All  hail!     All  hail  to  the  New. 

The  Lord  shall  divide  the  sea! 
And  open  a  way  in  the  wilderness 
To  faith  that  follows,  to  feet  that  press 
Into  the  great  To  Be, 
The  Lord  shall  divide  the  Sea! 


50 


A  BUTTERFLY. 

UNFOLD  thy  wing, 
Thou  trembling  radiant  thing, 
Slow  breaking,  like  an  Amazonian  flower, 
To  life  and  light  in  this  thy  natal  hour, 

Thou  needst  not  fear  the  Sun's  eye,  or  the 
dome 

Of  infinite  air  above  thee.     Thou  art  come 

Unto  thy  home. 

Give  to  the  air 

Thy  life  without  a  care ! 

Rise — but  thou  canst  not  rise!     A  broken 
wing — 

Torn  in  thy  struggle  to  be  free,  poor  thing! 

Makes  thee  a  prisoner  still.     Couldst  thou 
not  wait 

Until  His  hand  who  fixed  thy  low  estate 

Unbarred  the  gate? 

[51  1 


My  soul,  lie  still, 

Cradled  within  God's  will. 

Perhaps  this  two-leaved   book,  all   deftly 
wrought 

Like  a  fair  missal,  bears  the  Lord's  own 
thought 

And  message  to  thee.     Read  the  rent  page 
through : 

"  Be  still,  till  He  who  maketh  all  things  new 

Hath  made  thee  too!" 


[52] 


EASTER  WINGS. 

TAKE  wing,  my  soul,  take  wing! 
The  promise  of  the  Spring 
Fills  all  the  balmy  air  and  budding  earth; 
All  sleeping  life  is  springing  to  its  birth, 
And  art  thou  slumbering? 
My  soul,  take  wing! 

Unfold,  my  soul,  thy  wings: 

The  tender,  growing  things 

Break   from   their   tomb   and   to   the   sun 
aspire. 

The  Lenten  lilies  feel  his  heart  of  fire, 

And,  though  the  cold  earth  clings, 

Unfold  their  wings. 

My  soul,  unfold  thy  wings 

Above  the  clod  that  clings 

Around  thy  feet  to  root  thee  in  the  earth; 

Thy  life  is  drawn  from  Him  who  gave  thee 
birth, 

And  from  His  nature  springs 

Thine  untried  wings. 

l53l 


My  soul,  take  wing — take  wing! 

The  happy,  sun-bright  thing 

That  floats  unburdened  in  the  blessed  air, 

Went  down  to  death  thro*  darkness  and 
despair, 

And  won,  thro*  pains  untold, 
Its  wings  of  gold. 

Take  wing,  my  soul,  take  wing, 

And  waken  with  the  Spring! 

The  winds  of  God  thro'  all  His  heavens 
blow; 

The  heavenly  streams  thro'  all  His  pas- 
tures flow; 

And  art  thou  slumbering? 

My  soul,  take  wing! 


54  1 


THE  SUN  GOD. 

HE  sits  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth 
At  morn  a  moment's  space, 
And  Nature,  waiting  for  a  new  day's  birth, 
Adores,  with  radiant  face. 

He  sits  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth 

Again,  when  day  is  done; 

Then   Nature   and   her   children,   hushing 
mirth, 

Worship  the  passing  Sun. 


155 


GOD'S  BIRDS. 

A  BLUE-BIRD— blue    as   an   Easter 
sky- 

Sang  from  a  beech  bough,  brown  and  dry, 

A  little  song  that  was  half  a  sigh. 

She  sang  to  heaven — as  pure  souls  do; 

But  the  only  heaven  she  ever  knew 

Was  the  sun-filled  air,  with  its  roof  of 
blue. 

"Dear  heaven, "  this  was  the  soft  refrain, 

"Let  the  trees  laugh  out  into  leaf  again; 

Let  the  earth  grow  green  with  the  spring- 
ing grain.' ' 

She  sang  in  faith,  then  she  ceased  to  sing, 

And  hid  her  head  'neath  a  soft  blue  wing, 

And   waited   for  what   the   morn   would 
bring. 

[56] 


Alas,  and  alas!  ere  the  night  was  o'er 

The  east  wind  rose  with  a  mighty  roar, 

And  the  rain  through  the  beechen  boughs 
did  pour. 

And  the  blue-bird — who  can  tell  the  rest? 
The  fears  that  fought  in  her  little  breast, 
While  there  was  no  sun,  no  spring,  no  nest. 

Three    days,  three    nights,    of    the    wild 
March  rain, 

And  the  great  sun  smiled  on  the  earth 
again, 

And   the   blue-bird    piped    to   the   sunlit 
plain. 

"Dear  sun  in  heaven,  for  days  of  grief, 

Let  the  trees  laugh  out  into  tender  leaf; 

Let  the  fields  grow  green  with  the  coming 
sheaf." 

And  the  great  sun  answered,  "My  little 
bird, 

You  sang  to  God  and  your  song  was  heard, 

The  stormy  wind,  fulfilling  His  word, 

[571 


"Was  one  of  His  deep  and  sweet  replies; 

For  up  through  the  budding  beech  will 
rise 

The  rain  that  fell  from  the  clouded  skies, 

"To  weave  the  roof  of  the  forest  fane 
That  brings  the  birds  to  their  own  again, 
In  the  clear  shining  after  the  rain." 


58] 


THE    MOUNTAINS    OF   THE    LORD. 

UP  to  the  hills  I  lift  mine  eyes, 
Clothed  in  sweet  silence,  wrapped 
in  golden  dreams 

Their  feet  forever  in  green  pastures  held 

By    silver    threads    of    softly    flowing 
streams. 

My  Lord,  my  Shepherd,  lead  me  to  Thy 
hills! 

Through  these  green  pastures,  spring- 
ing with  Thy  love; 

By  these  still  waters,  brimming  with  Thy 
life, 

Draw  Thou    my  soul    to    those    calm 
heights  above. 

The  Mountains  of  the  Lord!     Far  in  the 
East, 

Beyond  the  hills,  I  sometimes  see  them 
lift 

Their    brows    of    light — their    breasts    of 
heavenly  calm, 

And  then  a  cloud  is  blown  across  the 
rift, 

[59] 


But  when  upon  Thy  hills  my  feet  stood 

fast, 

What  if  a  day  should  dawn  that  brings 
that  word, 

"  Arise — depart,  for  this  is  not  your  rest," 

And  I  should  see  the  Mountains  of  the 
Lord! 

Then  cometh  open  vision  "in  that  day," 

Not  clear — not  dark,  yet  known,  dear 
Lord,  to  Thee 

"Nor  day,  nor  night,"  but  "at  the  evening 
time 

It  shall  be  light"  and  I  shall  clearly  see. 


[60] 


POOR  PUCK! 

THE  young  moon  hung  in  the  purple 
west, 

Where  the  sun  had  an  hour  since  gone  to 
rest, 

And  the  stars  and  the  fire-flies,  one  by  one, 

With  a  stolen  spark  from  the  vanished 
sun, 

Went  glinting  and  glancing  here  and  there, 

Playing  bo-peep  through  the  dewy  air, — 

When  Puck,  the  dear  little  vagabond  elf, 

Came  whistling  a  whip-poor-will  song  to 
himself. 

"'Twill  be  dark  as  a  pocket,  I  know,"  he 
said; 

And  he  looked  at  his  lantern  and  shook 
his  head. 

"So  here's  for  a  light!"  and  then  with  a 
jump, 

On  a  broad-backed  toadstool  he  landed 
plump; 

Then  he  whistled  out  gayly,  and  very  soon 

The  fire-flies  gathered  to  hear  the  tune, 

[61] 


But  only  to  find  themselves  deftly  caught 

In  a  net  of  the  twisted  cobweb  wrought; 

And  then,  with  a  pinch,  to  make  them 
shine  well, 

He  shut  them  up  tight  in  his  lantern  cell. 

Queen  Mab,  who  was  flitting  across  the 
stream, 

Saw    through    the    tall    waving   reeds    a 
gleam ; 

Heard  a  low  laugh  and  a  tricksy  shout. 

'Ah!    Puck    and    the    fire-flies    now,    no 
doubt." 

Then  said  the  fairy,  "This  quickly  shall 

end!" 
(For  to  each  fire-fly  she  was  a  friend.) 
So  sailing  low  o'er  the  close  knotted  grass, 

That  straightened  its  tangles  to  let  her 
pass, 

She    found    the    frolicsome,    mischievous 
sprite 

Waving  his  net  with  a  savage  delight. 

Then  whispered  Mab:  "What  a  beautiful 
chance !" 

And  she  measured  the  bank  with  a  venge- 
ful glance. 

[62] 


A  splash!    and   where    is    the    poor    little 
Puck? 

Was    there    ever    before    such    deplorable 
luck! 

Over  and  over,  and  down  and  down; 

Bumping  his  dear  little  hairless  crown; 

Tangling  his  toes  in  the  vines,  and  Oh ! 

Right  into  the  mire  she  saw  him  go! 

For  he  never  stopped  in  that  dreadful  fall, 

His  cobweb  net,  his  lantern  and  all, 

Till  he  touched  the  mud  of  the  streamlet's 
bed! 

As  for  the  midget,  Queen  Mab,  she  sped 

Over  the  meadows  and  fields  of  brake, 

With  many  a  fire-fly  spark  in  her  wake, 

But  never  a  pang  in  that  vacant  spot 

Where  her  heart  should  be  for  the  hapless 
lot 

Of  the  poor  little  rascal,  scrambling  about 

In  the  mud  and   the  dark,  and  his  light 
put  out! 


[63] 


THE  FAIRY  WEDDING. 

A  LITTLE  brown  mother-bird  sat  in 
her  nest, 

With  four  sleepy  birdlings  tucked  under 
her  breast, 

And  her  querulous  chirrup  fell  ceaseless 
and  low, 

While  the  wind  rocked  the  lilac-tree  nest 
tQ  and  fro. 


"Lie  still,  little  nestlings !  lie  still  while  I  tell 

For  a  lullaby  story,  a  thing  that  befell 

Your  plain  little  mother  one  midsummer 
morn, 

A  month  ago,  birdies — before  you  were 
born. 

"I'd  been  dozing  and  dreaming  the  long 
summer  night, 

Till  the  dawn  flushed  its  pink  through  the 
waning  moonlight; 

When — I  wish  you  could  hear  it  once! — 
faintly  there  fell 

All  around  me  the  silvery  sound  of  a  bell ! 

[64] 


'Then  a  chorus  of  bells!     So,   with  just 
half  an  eye, 

I  peeped  from  the  nest,  and  those  lilies 
close  by, 

With  threads  of  a  cobweb,  were  swung  to 
and  fro 

By  three  little  rollicking  midgets  below. 


'Then  the  air  was  astir  with  humming- 
birds' wings! 

And  a  cloud  of  the  tiniest*  daintiest  things 

That  ever  one  dreamed  of,  came  fluttering 
where 

A  cluster  of  trumpet-flowers  swayed  in 
the  air. 


"As  I  sat  all  a-tremble,  my  heart  in  my 
bill  — 

'I   will   stay   by   the    nest/    thought    I, 
1  happen  what  will' ; 

So  I  saw  with  these  eyes  by  that  trumpet- 
vine  there, 

A  whole  fairy  bridal  train  poised  in  the 
air! 

s  [65] 


"Such  a  bit  of  a  bride!     Such  a  marvel  of 
grace 

In  a  shimmer  of  rainbows  and  gossamer 
lace! 

No  wonder  the  groom  dropped  his  dia- 
mond-dust ring, 

Which  a  little  elf -usher  just  caught  with 
his  wing. 

"Then  into  the  trumpet-flower  glided  the 
train, 

And  I  thought  (for  a  dimness  crept  over 
my  brain, 

And  I  tucked  my  head  under  my  wing), 
1  Dearie  me ! 

What  a  sight  for  a  plain  little  mother  like 

me!'" 


66 


IN  THE  HIGH  VALLEY. 

I  KNOW  a  high  valley— 
A  flower- jewelled  cup 
That  the  hills  to  the  heavens 
Forever  hold  up. 

Each  night  in  this  green  cup 
The  good  fairies  brew 

(The  sly  little  moonshiners!) 
Honey  and  dew. 

And,  morning  by  morning, 
The  sun  comes  and  fills 

Brimful  with  fresh  sunshine 
This  cup  in  the  hills. 

Ah,  then  the  flowers  waken! 

The  yellow  bees  hum! 
From  hive  and  from  hollow 

And  tree-hole  they  come. 
[67] 


The  sun  drinks  the  dew,  but 
Each  flower  in  her  cup 

Is  holding  her  honey 
For  wild  bees  to  sup. 

And  then  the  good  fairies 
Cry  lustily  out, — 
"O  pretty  Flower-ladies, 
The  bees  are  about. 

" Beware,  Lady  Lily! 

Sweet  Clover,  beware! 
The  buzz  of  the  wild  bee 
Is  filling  the  air!M 

But  O  the  Flower  Lady 
Knows  never  an  art; 

She  hoards  not  the  honey 
That  lies  in  her  heart. 

Today  and  tomorrow, 
And  all  summer  long, 

The  wild  bee  will  ravish 
Her  heart  with  his  song. 
[68] 


AN  OPEN  SECRET. 

"ANEMONE!     Anemone! 

-L   A.     Who  cleft  your  pretty  leaves  in 
three, 

And  grouped  them  round  your  little  feet 

In  three  again?     Who  left  the  sweet, 

Faint  breath  of  Spring  upon  your  lips, 

Her  flush  upon  your  petal  tips? 

Who  brings  you  on  this  April  day 

From  far-off  Sun-land,  beams  of  May, 

And  warms  the  shivering  baby  shoots 

That  hide  among  your  tender  roots? 

And,  when  the  north  wind  came  last  week, 

Who  deftly  pierced  his  puffy  cheek, 

And  turned  the  flying  frost  he  blew 

Across  the  hills  to  balmy  dew? 

And  who?" — She  shook  her  dainty  head, 

(Or  did  the  wind  pass  by?)  and  said: 

"The  ' frail  Anemone*  has  friends. " 

"And  who?" — But  there  the  story  ends! 

[69] 


THE  SUNSET  OF  THE  YEAR. 

THERE'S  an  undertone  of  sighing, 
There's  a  hush  in  all  the  air, 
And  the  face  of  nature  dying 
Wears  a  glow  divinely  fair: 
If  you  listen, — listen, — listen, — 

In  the  quiet  woodland  ways, 
You  will  hear  the  forest  singing; 
You  will  catch  the  breath  of  praise. 

Chorus. 
Praise  the  Lord,  O  field  and  forest: 

For  His  glory  draweth  near; 
He  is  in  His  holy  temple, 

In  the  sunset  of  the  year. 

O  the  glory  and  the  gladness 

Of  a  life  without  a  fear; 
Of  a  death  like  nature  dying, 

In  the  falling  of  the  year: 
[70] 


"For  she  is  not  dead  but  sleepeth," 
Till  the  early  robins  sing, 
And  the  bells  of  Easter  wake  her, 
For  the  coming  of  the  spring. 

— Chorus. 

O  for  such  a  blessed  falling 

Into  quiet  sleep  at  last, 
When  the  ripened  grain  is  garnered, 

And  the  toil  and  trial  past: 
When  the  red  and  gold  of  sunset 

Slowly  changes  into  grey, 
O  for  such  a  quiet  passing, 

Through  the  night  into  the  day! 

— Chorus. 


71 


TO  AN  OAK. 

HOW  firm  thy  hold, 
Despite  the  wrestling  winds  and 
cruel  frost, 

Upon  thy  little  hoard  of  last  year's  gold, 

Grown  dim  and  old ! 

Drop  thy  last  leaves 

Into  the  wide  and  waiting  lap  of  earth, — 

The  kindly  mother-soil   that  gave  thee 
birth; 

Her  hand  forever  weaves 

Anew  the  tissues  of  the  trees  of  God, 

Where'er  His  rain  and  sunshine  melt  the 
sod. 

Drop  thy  last  leaves! 

Be  comforted ! 
The  great  auroral  tides  forever  rise 
And  fall  in  rhythmic  silence  o'er  thy  head, 

Untouched  by  dread. 

When  rose  leaves  fall, 
Or  fruits  for  very  ripeness ,  who  sheds  tears  ? 
We  only — thou  and  I — are  filled  with  fears 

Because  we  hear  the  call: 
[72} 


'Loose  from  your  anchorage,  and  catch  the 
breeze 

That  springs  to  waft  you  o'er  the  un- 
known seas 

That  wait  for  all." 

In  this  thy  state — 

And  mine — the  viewless  winds  still  wage 
their  strife ; 

Here  is  the  battle  ground  of  love   and 
hate — 

Of  death  and  life. 

But  "in  that  day"— 

Thy   Spring   and   mine — when   the   slow 
swelling  flood 

Of  life  has  risen  and  touched  the  sleeping 
bud 

That  holds  the  perfect  May, 

The  leaves  shall  fall ;   the  dying  loves  and 
fears, 

The   hoarded   hopes  of   our   beleaguered 
years 

Shall  "in  that  day," 

Be  loosed  and  drift  away! 

[73] 


THE  WIND  HARP. 

BENEATH  the  singing  pines  I  lie, 
Safe  anchored  on  the  awful  rocks, 
And  dream,  between  the  sea  and  sky, 

Of  maids  with  wind-blown  locks. 
They  tower  in  virgin  majesty; 

They   spread   their   white   arms   to   the 
skies ; 

They  hold  a  harp  above  the  sea, 

Through  which  all  heaven  sighs. 
Their  long  hair,  lifted  to  the  gods, 

Must  nerve,  perhaps,  a  Punic  bow, 
But  through  its  vibrant  strings  the  floods 

Of  prayer  and  passion  flow. 
I  hear  it, — hear  it  in  a  dream, — 

The  battle  chant,  the  votive  prayer, 
The  twang  of  bow  strings,  and  the  scream 

Of  arrows  in  the  air! 
I  hear  the  songs  of  centuries, 

The  sirens  on  the  rocks  I  hear; 
The  rhythmic  sobbing  of  the  seas, 

The  captives'  cry  of  fear. 
[74] 


The    lark's    song,    winged    with    gladness, 
floats 

To  heaven's  gate,  and  disappears; 
But  these  low,  heart-alluring  notes 

Forever  tell  of  tears, — 
Forever,  for  the  heart-strings  feel 

With  soft  wind-fingers,  and  at  last, 
Like  longing,  homeless  souls,  they  steal 

Back  to  the  shadowy  past! 
O  great  Wind  Spirit  from  the  sea ! 

The  mask  is  done ;  the  white  mists  move 
Across  the  pines,  but  leave  with  me 

The  old  magician— Love ! 


[75 


THE  MOON  MAID. 

HAVE  you  seen  her,  have  you  seen 
her— 

My  moon  maiden, 

Fair  moon  maiden? 
When  the  lulling  winds  are  low, 

And  the  meadow  grass,  dew-laden, 
Sways  a-dreaming  to  and  fro, 

And  the  white  clouds  sail  like  barges 
Past  the  moon's  face,  still  and  slow, 
You  may  see  her  as  she  passes 
Like  a  white  gleam  o'er  the  grasses — 
Glowing  in  the  misty  masses — 
Or  a  shadow,  or  a  sprite, 
Dark  and  bright  by  turns,  to  vanish 
Into  night. 

[76] 


What  is  she — my  fair  moon  maiden? 
She  is  shadow, 
Glim'ring  shadow, 
She  is  light,  and  dew,  and  air; 

And  she  flits  across  the  meadow 
When  the  clouds  drift  white  and  fair 
Past  the  moon,  the  dews  a-glinting 
From  her  cloud  of  dusky  hair. 

Would  you  follow,  would  you  find  her? 
Naught  on  earth  may  stay  or  bind  her, 
All  the  earth  she  leaves  behind  her. 
See!  the  robe  of  filmy  light 
And  the  cloudy  hair  have  vanished 
Into  night. 


[771 


DAYBREAK. 

HOW,  do  you  ask  me,  was  the  New 
Day  born? 

Come  forth  and  stand  with  me  at  break 
of  day 

Among  the  vineyards,  when  the  dew  of  May 

Pearls  all  the  sunward  slopes  to  meet  the 
morn; 

When  the  last  shadows  that  the  night  has 
worn 

Slip  down  the  western  hills  and  drift  away 

Before  the  light,  fast  following,  ray  by  ray; 

When,  with  the  rapture  of  the  birds,  is 
borne 

Through  the  crisp  air  the  scent  of  flowers 
o'  the  vine — 

An  essence,   wavering  with   the  wind;    a 
breath 

Of  primal  Nature,  fragrant  with  the  wine 

Of  coming  vintages.     So,  in  very  faith, 

Came  sweet  perceptions  of  a  Truth  Divine ; 

So  dawned  my  Day  from  dark — my  Life 
from  death. 

[78] 


RISE,  FLOWERS,  RISE! 

ITTLE  children  of  the  sun, 
Wake  and  listen,  every  one! 
Hear  the  raindrops  as  they  fall, 
Hear  the  winds  that  call,  and  call, 
"Rise,  flowers,  rise!" 

Children,  little  sleepy-heads! 
It  is  time  to  leave  your  beds, 
Snowdrop  and  hepatica, 
Pink  spring-beauty,  lead  the  way; 
1 '  Rise ,    flowers ,   rise ! ' ' 

Tell  the  grasses  and  the  trees, 
Tell  the  bluebirds  and  the  bees, 
Tell  the  ferns,  like  crosiers  curled, 
It  is  Easter  in  the  world, 
"Rise,  flowers,  rise!" 
[79] 


Waken,  tardy  violets; 
Waken,  innocent  bluets; 
Waken,  every  growing  thing, 
It  is  Easter,  it  is  spring! 
"Rise,  flowers,  rise!,, 

Rise,  for  Christ  the  Lord  arose, 
Victor  over  all  His  foes; 
Rise,  with  all  the  souls  of  men, 
Into  light  and  life  again; 
"Rise,  flowers,  rise!" 


[80] 


A  WHITE  VIOLET. 

I  NEVER  looked  for  flowers  here, 
Where    sunshine    rarely    melts    the 
mold, 

Until  I  found,  one  genial  year, 

Some  purple  pansies  dashed  with  gold. 

Last  Spring  I  came  and  round  my  feet, 
Blue  violets  raised  their  dewy  eyes 

With  timid  grace  my  own  to  meet ; 

My  heart  still  holds  the  sweet  surprise. 

This  year  a  violet  saintly  white, 

Gold  at  the  heart,  and  purple  veined, 

Lifts  up  its  meek  face  to  the  light 

Like  childhood,  trustful  and  unstained. 

Dear  flower,  half  human,  half  divine, 

A  triple  thread  of  mystery 
Has  bound  thy  little  life  to  mine, 

And  wakes  both  fear  and  hope  in  me. 
6  [81] 


Dost  thou  indeed  from  common  earth 
Draw  thy  pure  life  as  pansies  do? 

Or  didst  thou  draw  it  at  thy  birth 

From  utmost  heaven  beyond  the  blue? 

I  shut  my  eyes  to  natural  law 

And  read, — the  words  are  writ  in  air, — 
"As  ye  have  borne  the  earthly,  so 
The  hue  of  heaven  ye  shall  bear." 

Dear  prophecy  of  coming  grace! 

I  also,  springing  from  the  sod, 
Shall  bear  upon  my  spirit's  face, 

The  very  image  of  my  God! 


[82] 


M' 


IN  A  GARDEN. 

Y  lilies,  led  in  white  processional, — 

My    acolytes    beside    the   garden 
wall, — 

Were  swinging  censers  full  of  sweets  to  all 

When  June  was  here. 

They  wrought  their  white  and  gold  with 
joy  of  living, 

They   gave    themselves    for    very    love    of 
giving; 

They  waked,  and  lived,  and  slept,  and 
felt  no  fear. 

They  slept  as  children  sleep — in  dreamless 
rest — 

When  the  light  fades  along  the  quiet  west, 

And    the    All-Mother    folds    them    to    her 
breast 

With  lullabies. 

A  flash  of  wings — an  early  bluebird   call- 
ing— 

And  now,  their  robes  of  night  around  them 
falling, 

All   dressed   in   tender   green,    the   lilies 
rise ! 

[  83  ] 


My  Lord  within  a  silent  garden  lay, 

The  rock  closed  round,  relentless,  cold  and 
gray, 

And  still  flowed  on  the  warm,  sweet  tide  of 
day, 

The  starry  night. 

Till  life  unfolded  in  the  narrow  prison 

Swifter  than  dawn,  and,  lo,  the  Lord  had 
risen, 

And  His  white  angels  filled  the  tomb  with 
light! 

My  soul,  fear  not  God's  holy  night  that 
flows 

Out  of  His  heaven  o'er  thy  garden  close. 

Day  goeth  away ;  his  shadows  bring  repose ; 

Then  breaks  the  morn, 

When,  from  the  foldings  of  the  night  up- 
springing, 

Clothed  with  the  day,  thou  shalt  hear  an- 
gels singing 

In  sweet  processional,  "A  child  is  born!" 


[84] 


THE  LESSON  OF  THE  TREES. 

"  Z^IOVER  me?     It  cannot  be 
^-^     Christ  will  never  cover  me 
With  His  own  white  righteousness. 
In  that  spotless,  seamless  dress 
I  should  still  a  sinner  stand 
With  this  stain  upon  my  hand; 
With  the  dark  defilements  spread 
From  my  proud,  unbending  head 
To  my  wayward,  wilful  feet. 
It  is  neither  right  nor  meet 
That  I  cover  from  the  light 
All  my  blackness  with  His  white." 

I  was  greater  than  my  Lord; 
I  was  true  above  His  word, 
As  I  brushed  with  hasty  tread 
Past  the  dwellings  of  the  dead 
Out  into  the  air  of  May 
From  the  church  that  Sabbath  day. 
[85] 


" Clothed  upon?     A  monarch's  ring 
Cannot  make  his  jester  king; 
Nor  the  royal  ermine's  white 
Hide  a  leper  from  God's  sight. 
Give  me,  Lord,  O  give  to  me 
Something  from  Thy  purity 
That  shall  make  me  clean  again 
From  the  clinging,  deadly  stain 
That  has  dyed  my  nature  through ! 
Make  me  wholly  pure  and  true 
In  my  being's  inmost;    there 
I  Thy  righteousness  would  wear." 

Nature's  hand  fell  cool  and  sweet 
On  my  brow's  untempered  heat. 
"Hush!"  she  said,  "What  words  are  these? 
Learn  a  lesson  from  the  trees." 

Softly  penciled,  faint  of  hue, 
Like  a  film  against  the  blue 
Stood  the  trees — the  green  of  May 
Flushing  through  their  tender  gray. 

"Soon,"  I  thought,  "the  trees  will  stand 
Clothed  in  green  through  all  the  land. 

[86] 


Clothed ?   That  haunting  thought  again ! " 
And  a  subtle  sense  of  pain 
Roused  again  the  restless  mood — 
Fed  the  fever  in  the  blood. 

"  These — God's  creatures — clad  in  life, 
Are  rent  not  with  inward  strife 
Being  clothed/'  I  mused  at  length, 

"They  are  filled  with  draughts  of  strength 
From  the  fountains  of  the  earth 
Where  their  rooted  life  had  birth; 
And  the  sun,  with  touch  divine, 
Turns  their  water  into  wine; 
Sends  it  coursing  like  a  flood 
Through  the  tissues  of  the  wood, 
Mounting  richer,  warmer,  higher, 
Like  an  unconsuming  fire, 
Till  at  the  appointed  hour 
Springs  the  bud,  the  leaf,  the  flower — 
Robes  of  living  loveliness! 

"Lord,  if  I  Thy  righteousness 
Have  rejected  in  my  need, 
And  have  missed  Thy  love  indeed ; 
[871 


If  through  blindness,  and  a  will 
That  is  self -deluding  still, 
I  have  scorned  Thy  Holy  Word; 
Still  pursue  me!     Teach  me,  Lord, 
All  the  lesson  of  the  trees ; 
How  my  naked  life,  like  these, 
May  be  clothed  upon  with  Thine, 
As  the  tree,  the  flower,  the  vine, 
Bear  the  color,  grace,  and  fruit, 
Springing  from  the  living  root. 

"Give  me,  trees  of  God,  your  dress, 
Symbol  of  His  righteousness. 
Clothe  me,  lilies,  in  your  light, 
Hold  me — fold  me  in  your  white ! 
Let  me  wear,  O  vines,  your  crown, 
Weighed  with  final  fruitage  down, 
And  my  only  life  shall  be 
Christ,  my  Righteousness,  in  Thee!" 


[88] 


WILL-O'-THE-WISP. 

O  WANDERING  Will-o'-the-wisp, 
Will  you  never  find  the  way? 
I  watch  the  wavering  spark 
Of  your  lantern,  down  in  the  dark, 
And  I  think  I  hear  you  say, 
"Lost!  lost!  lost! 
For  a  thousand  years  and  a  day!" 

O,  tell  me,  Will-o'-the-wisp, 

Are  you  a  spirit  astray — 
An  angel-child?     Did  you  fall 
Over  the  jasper  wall 

Of  Paradise,  that  you  say, 

"Lost!  lost!  lost!" 

Dear  little  Will-o'-the-wisp, 

Come  up  from  the  fens,  I  pray; 
For  heaven  is  not  so  far 
As  the  very  nearest  star, 
And  the  song  we  sing  alway 

Is  "Saved!  saved!  saved! 
Forever  and  a  day!" 
[89] 


"THY  WAY  IS  IN  THE  SEA." 

(Psalm  lxxvii,  19.) 
U  1     I  ^  Way  lS  1Xl  ^e  sea*" 

A  A     How  shall  I  follow  Him? 
His  waves  like  shifting  mountains  move; 
His  sun  and  stars  are  dim. 


I  did  not  ask  for  life; 

He  launched  me  on  my  ways. 

When   sunshine    laughed    from   morning 
skies, 

And  tides  dropped  down  the  bays. 

I  floated  with  the  fleet; 

I  hailed  the  springing  breeze. 
And  sung  across  the  harbor  bar 

Songs  of  the  open  seas. 

But  now — what  is  my  life? 

Its  blue  has  turned  to  gray; 
And  mounting  sorrows,  cloud  on  cloud, 

Have  blotted  out  my  day. 

[90] 


And,  surfing  o'er  my  soul, 
The  bitter  waves  of  strife 

Force  from  my  lips  the  coward's  cry: 
"I  did  not  ask  for  life!" 

"Thy  way"— Thou  art  the  Way! 
My  Lord,  I  am  at  rest; 
The  seas  are  circled  by  Thine  arms; 
Its  billows  are  Thy  breast. 

"The  Way— the  Truth— the  Life— " 
How  can  I  miss  Thee,  Lord? 
I  thank  Thee  for  the  gift  of  life ; 
I  thank  Thee  for  Thy  Word. 


[91] 


A  DEEP  SEA  DREAM. 

O  MOTHER,  mother,  hear   the   sea! 
it  calls  across  the  sands; 

I   saw  it  tossing  up  the  spray,  like  white, 
imploring  hands, 

Last  night  before  the  moon  went  down; 
and  when  I  fell  asleep, 

I  saw  it  crawl  and  kiss  my  feet — I  heard  it 
moan  and  weep! 

It  cried,  "O  little  maid!  come  down,  come 
down!  nor  say  us  nay! 

There's  not  a  soul  in  all  the  sea  to  think,  or 
love,  or  pray! 

Come,  that  our  lower  world  may  see  the 
shining  of  God's  face; 

He  lives  in  loving,  human  hearts,  and  not  in 
seas  and  space." 

And  so  it  drew  me  down  and  down,  below 
the  restless  waves, 

Through  leagues  and  leagues  of  still  green 
depths,  through  arching  coral  caves, 

And  fairy  gardens  set  with  flowers, — the 
like  were  never  seen 

And  feathery  forests,  tint  o'er  tint,  of  rose, 
and  gold,  and  green. 

[92] 


And  there  were  plants  like  plumy  palms, 
that  melted  into  gray, 

Or  mists  of  gold,  or  clouds  of  rose,  they 
were  so  far  away; 

And  there  were  flowers,  like  garden  pinks 
and  poppies,  in  the  sea, 

And,  mother,  they  were  all  alive,  and  waved 
their  hands  to  me! 

And    shining   fish    and   dolphins   came    to 
gaze  in  still  surprise ; 

And    strange   sea-monsters   crowded    near 
with  cold  and  hungry  eyes; 

And  all  grew  dark,  and  then  I  called,  "O 
mother,  mother,  come!" 

And,  mother,  mother,  I'm  so  glad  to  be 
with  you  at  home! 


[Q3l 


"EARTH     DELIVERED     SINGS     TO 

GOD." 

"O  Earth,  Earth,  Earth,  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord." 

Jer.  22:29. 
"Awake  and  sing,  ye  that  dwell  in  the  dust." 

Isa.  26:19. 

EARTH  delivered  sings  to  God 
("Easter!     Easter!") 
From  the  brown  earth's  softening  sod, 

11  Easter !" 
Lo,  a  bud  is  bursting  through, 
And  a  bird  is  in  the  blue, 
Winter's  past 
At  last,  at  last! 

Sing  to  God,  thou  doubting  heart, 

("Easter,  Easter!") 
Lift  thy  voice,  and  bear  thy  part; 

"Easter!" 
Lay  thine  ear  unto  the  earth : 
Life  is  struggling  to  its  birth, 
Winter's  past 
At  last,  at  last! 
[94] 


Hark!  an  angel's  voice  I  hear, 

("Easter!     Easter!") 
Heaven  to  earth  is  bending  near, 

"Easter!" 
Lo,  our  Lord  in  death  was  laid; 
He  is  risen,  be  not  afraid ; 
Death  is  past 
At  last,  at  last! 

Sleeping  soul,  awake,  awake! 

("Easter!     Easter!") 
Round  thee  all  the  heavens  break, 

"Easter!" 
Life  leaps  upward  from  the  sod; 
Man,  delivered,  sings  to  God, 
"Easter!     Easter!" 
Death  is  past 
At  last,  at  last! 


[95 


ABOUT  OUR  APPLE  TREE. 

II KE  some  fair  saint  in  flowing  white, 
J     That  bends  above  a  child  at  night, 
It  stands  beneath  the  moon  of  May 
And  broods  above  my  nest  till  day. 

But  when  with  dawn  the  sleeping  world 
awakes 

Into  full  light  and  bloom  the  vision  breaks. 


[96: 


NOX  BENIGNA. 

ANGEL  of  the  Shadowing  Wing 
L     In  the  pale  East  hovering, 
While  the  vesper  thrushes  sing, 
Lift  the  flood  gates  of  the  West ! 
Earth  is  weary,  light  oppressed, 
Let  the  dusk  fall — she  would  rest. 

Let  the  glory  of  the  day, 
Gold  and  opal,  ebb  away: 
Lap  her  gently  in  the  gray! 
Banish  with  the  ebbing  light 
Thought  and  feeling,  sound  and  sight: 
Leave  her  in  the  lap  of  Night. 


I  97 


SONGS  OF  LABOR  AND  OTHER 
POEMS. 


SONG  OF  HOPE.* 

CHILDREN  of  yesterday, 
Heirs  of  to-morrow, 
What  are  you  weaving? 

Labor  and  sorrow? 
Look  to  your  looms  again. 

Faster  and  faster 
Fly  the  great  shuttles 

Prepared  by  the  Master, 
Life's  in  the  loom, 

Room  for  it — 

Room! 

Children  of  yesterday, 

Heirs  of  to-morrow, 
Lighten  the  labor 

And  sweeten  the  sorrow. 

*  $1000.00  Prize  poem. 
[101I 


Now,  while  the  shuttles  fly 

Faster  and  faster, 
Up,  and  be  at  it, 

At  work  with  the  Master; 
He  stands  at  your  loom, 

Room  for  Him — 

Room! 

Children  of  yesterday, 

Heirs  of  to-morrow, 
Look  at  your  fabric 

Of  labor  and  sorrow. 
Seamy  and  dark 

With  despair  and  disaster, 
Turn  it,  and — lo, 

The  design  of  the  Master! 
The  Lord's  at  the  loom; 

Room  for  Him — 

Room! 


[  102] 


T 


THE  WHEEL  IN  ART. 

HE  Poppybuds  live  in  the  world  of 
Art 


And  I  am  their  guest.     We  are  far  apart 

From  the  plain  old  world  I  have  known  so 
long, 

And  which  now  turns  out  to  be  made  all 
wrong. 

My  optical  center  is  not  yet  fixed, 

And  the  old  and  the  new  are  a  little  mixed. 

But  Art  and  Nature,  my  friend  affirms, 

Are  altogether  different  terms. 

He  puts  in  magazines — posters — books, 

Just  his  idea  of  how  it  looks 

From  his  point  of  view  in  the  world  of  Art. 

I  look  and  listen,  but  haven't  the  heart 

As  a  guest,  you  know,  to  assume  the  right 

To  a  world  adjusted  to  my  sight. 

[  103  ] 


In    his   studio — spacious,    and    under   the 
tiles — 

You  can  travel  for  hours  thro*  miles  and 
miles 

Of  curious  country,  and  under  skies 

Too  truly  awful  for  common  eyes. 


I'll    lift    the    curtain.     Now — under    the 
rose — 

What  can  it  all  mean,  do  you  suppose? 

Here's  a  cart-wheel  moon,  and  a  cobble- 
stone sky, 

And  pasteboard  starlets,  and  clouds  that  lie 

Like  spilt  spaghetti,  or  bleaching  bones 

Of  dragons  dead  on  the  cobble-stones. 


That's  not  a  wheel  with  a  hundred  spokes; 

It's  the  sun  that  rises  on  artist  folks. 

And  this  is  a  river  meandering  down 

Through  daisied  meadows;  and  this  is  a 
town 

All  stiff  with  steeples ;   and  these  are  trees, 

Like  tufts  of  cotton,  or  pineapple  cheese. 

[  104  ] 


But  PoppybucTs  woman !    My  spirit  grieves 

At  her  swirly  skirts  and  her  whirly  sleeves, 

Her  Gorgon  locks,  and  Egyptian  eyes, 

And  her  step — cyclonic  or  serpentwise. 

There's  nothing  human  in  all  those  whorls 

And  spinning  spirals  that  make  his  girls; 

But  once  you  get  them  inside  your  head 

And  they  whirl  and  whirl  till  you're  nearly 
dead! 


Look  at  those  ink-spots; — shadows  cast 

From  ghouls  and  ghosties  swift  sliding  past 

To  their  yawning  graves.     No, — stay;   he 
said 

That  these  were  the  children  going  to  bed ! 

Even  the  babies  are  in  the  race, 

And  roll  and  bowl  at  a  scorching  pace ! 


Ah,  mercy  me,  and  alack-a-day ! 
What  in  the  world  does  Ruskin  say? 
What's  up  with  Art  now,  that  no  one  knows 
The  meaning  of  that  rare  word  repose? 
[105I 


Where,  O  where,  did  the  first  seed  fall 
That  grew  the  fad  that  pursues  us  all? 
I  have  a  notion  (my  own  idea), 
And — right  or  wrong — I  will  file  it  here. 

A  Vision  caught  from  the  work-a-day  world 

Into  the  ken  of  an  artist  whirled. 

It  turned  and  burned  in  his  busy  brain, 

And  out  at  his  finger-ends  whirled  again. 

The  Vision?     The  siren  was  one  of  those 
things 

(Modeled,  no  doubt,  upon  Saturn's  rings) 

Light  of  body,  but  nerved  with  steel, 

That  all  creation  now  calls  THE  WHEEL. 


106] 


THE  RUBAIYAT. 

A  FEW  plain  people  would  like  to  find 
A  point  of  rest  for  the  average  mind 

On  the  question  of  tramps,  How  shall  we 
think 

Of  the  genus  "Hobo";    his  love  of  drink, 

His  easy  morals,  his  calm  repose 

(Except when  the  mood  is  on,  and  he  goes), 

His  love  of  the  open,  if  not  of  air, 

Of  wide  horizons,  and  generous  fare; 

His  human  freedom,  his  right  divine 

To  his  neighbor's  crust  (with  the  loaf) 
and  wine ; 

His  liberal  creed  and  life,  that  we 

Have  called  irresponsibility? 

How   does    he    differ, — now    there's    the 
rub, — 

From  old  Diogenes  in  his  tub, 

Or  Omar,  prince  of  idlers  all, 

Who  lounged  inside  his  garden  wall 

[  107  1 


'Mid  dropping  roses,  while  maids  divine 

Provided  nectar,  in  other  words — wine? 

Astronomer?     The   magnificent   whole 

Of  the  heavens  was  but  an  inverted  bowl 

Drained  of  its  wine,  he  lay  at  night 

Studying  stars  with  the  long  delight 

Of  pure  inertia.     Now  and  then 

He  wrote,  with  a  peacock  quill  for  a  pen, 

On  a  palm-leaf  scroll,  or  a  lily  pad 

(It  isn't  certain  what  Omar  had), 

Some  bad  things  said  in  a  beautiful  way 

For  the  world  to  faddle  about  some  day. 

"Wouldst  have  the  world  at  thy  feet?"  he 
cried, 

"Then  drink,  and  toss  the  old  world  aside/ ' 


We've  tried  to  think  in  the  hazy  way 

That  others  do  at  the  present  day; 

We've  read   the   "renderings"   o'er   and 
o'er, 

Then  talked  with  tramps  at  the  kitchen 
door, 

[108] 


Yet     deeper     and     deeper     the     wonder 
grows, — 

How  does  old  Omar  under  the  Rose 

Differ  from  Dennis  under  the  edge 

Of   the    Railroad   Shed,   or   the   Mayor's 
Hedge? 

And  why  do  men — there's  another  rub — 

Read  the  Rubaiyat  at  the  Khayyam  Club, 

Then,  down  at  the  Charities,  lend  a  hand 

To  hound  the  Hobo  out  of  the  land? 

And  why  do  our  poets — the  lesser  lot — 

Find  truth  and  beauty  in  heathen  rot? 

Why  do  they  carry  their  own  good  grist 

To  the  mills  of  the  Persian  pessimist, 

And  afterward  give  us  an  ounce  of  grain 

With    a    pound    of    chaff?     And    why — 
again — 

Is  vagabondage  (with  towsled  hair, 

And  creeds  decadent)  in  all  the  air? 

And  why  do  people,  where'er  it's  rife, 

Live,  like  Omar,  the  " strenuous  life"? 

Are  we  under  an  evil  star? 

We  really  don't  know  where  we  are. 

[  109  1 


LOST— A  CHILD. 

IOST! — in  the  shadow  of  the  street; 
-^     Lost!  on  the  highway  or  the  moor, 
A  child  of  God.     His  aimless  feet 

May  halt  beside  your  door; 
His  poor  marred  form, — a  derelict  of  time, 

Dismantled,    drifting   with    the   tides   of 
crime, — 

His  clouded  eyes  may  haunt  your  sleep 
at  night 

With   dreams   of   lost    suns, — dead    and 
ashen  white. 

If  you  should  meet  him  at  your  door, 

O    meet    him    with    your    eyes, — your 
hand, — 

Your  voice,  that  so  the  sunken  shore 

Of  that  lost  Mother-land 

He  knew  long  since,  but  knows  no  more, 

The  heaven  of  his  infancy  may  rise 

Holding  enshrined  in  calm  his  mother's 
eyes, 

[no] 


The  room,  the  home,  the  garden,  and  the 
gate 

From  which  he  wandered  far,  and  long, 
and  late. 

His  nerveless  hand  has  dropped  the  clue; 

The  thread  of  gold  lies  in  the  dust; 
The  gleam  is  lost, — he  sees  its  hue 

Dull  iron, — red  with  rust. 

But  take  the  hand  he  cannot  give,  and  you 

May  lead  him  to  the  door  of  that  dim 
room 

Wherein  his  mother's  eyes  light  all  the 
gloom, — 

(Hark ! — through  the  years  long  dead !) 

"Thou  little  child  of  God,"  she  crooning 
said, 

"I  bind  thee — bind  thee  with  this  golden 
thread, 
And  angels  wind  and  wind  the  ball  that 
brings 

The  children  home  from  all  their  wander- 
ings." 


[in] 


A  SPINNING  SONG. 

THE  little  spinners  of  the  world 
Are  spinning !  spinning ! 
Their  round  cocoons  of  shining  silk, 
As  soft  as  down,  as  white  as  milk, 
Through  all  the  night  and  all  the  day 
They  wind,  and  wind,  and  wind  away. 
We'll  spin  with  them  thro'  dark  and  light 
The  thread  that  weaves  the  ribbon  white. 

The  little  weavers  of  the  world 

Are  weaving!  weaving! 
Our  hands  are  weaving  all  day  long, 
Our  voices,  too,  in  word  and  song, 
The  silken  net  that  binds  in  one 
All  lands  that  lie  beneath  the  sun, 
The  silken  mesh,  as  white  as  light, 
To  wed  the  lands  with  ribbon  white. 

[112] 


The  great  round  world  is  spinning  on, 

Spinning!  spinning! 
And  not  a  thread  of  shining  white 
Is  lost  from  out  our  Father's  sight. 
He  holds  them  all  within  His  hands 
And  weaves  redemption  for  the  lands. 
We'll  work  with  Him  thro*  dark  and  light, 
Till  all  shall  wear  the  ribbon  white! 


[113] 


0 


THE  END  OF  THE  STREET. 

(From  the  Clock  Tower) 

NE — two — three — four — five — six — 
seven — eight — nine — ten! 

Beat — beat!     O  heavy  feet! 

No  matter  where,  along  the  street. 

Beat  out  the  hours  till  night  is  past; 

Beat  out  the  hunger-pain  at  last. 

Beat— beat! 

One — two — three — four — five — six — seven 
eight — nine — ten — eleven! 

Beat — beat!     O  rest  is  sweet! 

But  nobody  rests  upon  the  street. 

Beat  down  the  manhood  that  remains ; 

Beat  down  old  memories — bloody  stains ! 

Beat — beat ! 

[114] 


One — two — three — jour — five — six — seven — 
eight — nine — ten — eleven — twelve! 

Beat — beat!     The  fields  were  sweet 

When  I  was  a  boy.     O  the  long  green 
street 

Where  I  hoed  the  row  in  the  dewy  morn, 

And  whistled  among  the  springing  corn! 

Beat— beat! 

One! 

Beat — beat!     How  cool  and  sweet 

Was  the  soft  brown  earth  to  a  boy's  bare 
feet! 

But  here  it  is  stony,  and  cold,  and — O, 

For  the  furrowed  field,  and  the  corn  to 
hoe! 

Beat — beat ! 

One — two! 

Beat — beat!     There's  bread  and  meat 
In  the  old  farm  house  for  the  hands  to  eat. 
They  are  the  servants,  and  I  am  the  son; 
Some  one's  to  blame,  and — I'm  the  one! 
Beat— beat! 
[115] 


One — two — three! 

Beat — beat!     The  end  of  the  street, 

And    water, — a    wide,    black    winding- 
sheet  ! 

God — if  a  God  be  overhead — 

Pity  a  fellow!     The  river  bed 

Is  deep — deep, — 

But  a  place  to  sleep! 


[116] 


THE  GOLDEN  AGE  IS  COMING. 

OTHE  Golden  Age  is  coming, 
It's  dawning  everywhere; 
Its  light  is  on  the  hill-tops, 

Its  breath  is  in  the  air. 
The  hopes  of  men  in  bondage, 

The  promises  of  God, 
Are  written  in  the  rainbow 
That's  springing  from  the  sod. 

O,  the  Golden  Age  is  coming, 
When  each  shall  live  for  all, 
The  workman  in  the  cottage, 
The  statesman  in  the  hall. 
"Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?" 
Shall  never  then  be  said, 
But,  "I'm  my  brother's  brother," 
Shall  all  men  say  instead, 
[117] 


O,  the  Golden  Age  is  coming 

When  men  and  women,  wed 
In  heavenly  love  and  wisdom, 

Shall  bruise  the  dragon's  head; 
When  parents  to  their  children 

A  noble  name  shall  give; 
When  all  that's  base  shall  perish, 

When  all  that's  good  shall  live. 


[118] 


BY  THIS  WE  CONQUER. 

HARK!  in  the  air  a  song, 
With  an  undertone  below- 
Like  the   marching  of  a    mighty   throng; 

What  coming  host  hath  so 
Sent  Hope  a-singing  through  the  land, 
Her  wings  with  light  aglow? 

The  children  are  a-field ! 

They  march  to  meet  their  King 
Each  bears  a  standard  and  a  shield, 

And  each  an  offering; 
And  all  the  air  is  ringing  with 

The  songs  of  faith  they  sing. 

What  shield  is  this  they  bear? 

What  standard  doth  the  Lord 
Uplift  beside  the  waters,  where — 

According  to  His  Word — 
The  fierce  incoming  floods  are  stayed, 

The  breath  of  Heaven  stirred? 
[119I 


A  lifted  cross  I  see, 

And,  in  a  sacred  sign, 
The  flag,  in  holy  unity, 

Enfolds  its  form  divine; 
And  from  its  floating  blue  the  stars 

Forever  shine  and  shine. 


[120] 


HYMN  FOR  HOME  MISSIONS. 

LAND  of  our  love,  thy  daughters  meet 
-^     In  love  and  worship  at  the  feet 
Of  Christ,  the  Lord  of  lands,  to  claim 
Redemption  for  thee  in  His  name. 

The  ceaseless  tide  of  human  souls 
From  either  sea  that  o'er  thee  rolls 
Grows  dark  with  ignorance  and  shame, 
We  ask  redemption  in  His  name. 

Thy  simple  children  of  the  sun, 

From  bitter  bonds  so  dearly  won, 

Stretch    forth    their    hands   with    us,    and 
claim 

A  new  redemption  in  His  name. 

For  homes  of  poverty  and  woe 
Where  love  upon  the  hearth  burns  low; 
For  holy  childhood,  born  to  shame, 
We  ask  redemption  in  His  name. 
[121] 


Lord  over  all,  as  through  the  years 
We  plant  with  joy,  or  sow  with  tears, 
Help  us  to  serve,  'mid  praise  or  blame 
"For  love  of  Christ,  and  in  His  name!" 


[122  J 


HYMNS  AND  SACRED  SONGS. 


COME,  O  CREATOR! 

COME,  O  Creator,  Spirit  blest! 
And  in  our  souls  take  up  Thy  rest; 
Come,  with  Thy  grace  and  heavenly  aid, 
To  fill  the  hearts  which  Thou  hast  made. 

Great  Comforter!  to  Thee  we  cry; 

O  highest  gift  of  God  most  high ! 

O  fount  of  life !     O  fire  of  love ! 

Send  sweet  anointing  from  above. 
*     *     * 

Not  in  the  upper  chamber, 

But  at  the  cross  alone, 
The  lowest  depth  was  fathomed 

Between  Thee  and  Thy  throne. 


["5J 


THE  LATTER  DAY. 

TO  meet  the  ascending  Lord 
The  Heaven  of  heavens  came  down, 
And  angels  bore  above 

The  Victor  to  His  crown: 
He  rose  to  stand  before  the  Throne, 
And  plead  forever  for  His  own. 

Within  the  mystic  veil 

Forever  rent  in  twain, 
The  Holy  Presence  shone 

Upon  the  world  again, 
When  God,  the  Holy  Spirit,  came 
To  crown  His  own  with  tongues  of  flame. 

O  Christ!  unseen  till  now, 

Though  passed  from  human  sight, 
Thy  words,  Thy  life,  Thy  death, 

Stand,  clothed  in  living  light: 
Thy  saints  grow  strong  beneath  the  ray 
That  ushers  in  the  latter  day. 

[126] 


LIFT  UP,  O  ZION. 

LIFT  up — lift  up — O  Zion, 
-^     Your  everlasting  gates! 
Before  your  tardy  portals 
The  Lord  of  glory  waits. 
The  Lord  hath  chosen  Zion, 

He  cometh  to  His  own; 
Prepare  the  way  before  Him; — 
Prepare  the  crown  and  throne. 

He  cometh  with  a  promise — 

A  covenant  of  grace; 
The  brightness  of  His  coming 

Makes  glorious  the  place: 
'Here  will  I  dwell  forever, 

And  here  shall  be  my  rest; 
And,  blessing,  I  have  called  thee 
Henceforth  forever  blessed !" 
[127I 


Go  forth,  my  heart,  to  meet  Him, — 

Go  forth,  without  the  gates; 
For  thee,  in  holy  patience, 

The  world's  Redeemer  waits. 
Go  forth  unto  Him,  bearing 

His  cross,  reproach,  and  shame, 
And  thou  shalt  bear  forever 

The  beauty  of  His  name. 


[128 


WHEN  THE  BILLOWS. 

WHEN  the  billows,  dark  and  deep, 
Gather  round  my  pilgrim  feet; 
When  my  way  is  in  the  sea, 
Jesus,  Master,  stand  by  me. 
Lo,  I  come  to  do  Thy  will ; 
Let  me  hear  Thy  "Peace,  be  still!" 

As  the  holy  martyrs  stood 
Far  above  the  hungry  flood, 
Glory  in  their  lifted  eyes, 
Kindled  from  the  opening  skies; 
Lo,  in  death's  supremacy, 
Christ,  be  magnified  in  me! 

Whether  mine  be  life  or  death, — 
Living  voice  or  passing  breath, 
Jesus,  Word  of  Life  within, 
Speak  thou  to  a  world  in  sin ; 
Speak,  and  this  my  joy  shall  be: 
Jesus  lives  and  speaks  to  me. 


129 


DOOR  OF  HOPE. 

IIFT  up  thine  eyes  unto  the  hills, 
-^     O  watcher  on  the  walls! 
A  glory  on  the  lands  afar — 
On  sea  and  mountain  falls. 

A  thousand,  thousand  fettered  hands 

Are  lifted  heavenward; 
And  one  by  one  the  kingdoms  rise 

To  meet  their  coming  Lord. 

Behold  the  open  door  of  hope! 

The  prison  gates  unbarred! 
Lead  forth  the  saints  to  all  the  lands, 

O  angel  of  the  Lord! 

For  God  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it, 

The  little  one  shall  stand 
A  holy  nation,  strong  and  fair, 

A  light  to  every  hand. 

[130] 


KEEP  THY  HEART. 

KEEP  thy  heart,  O  keep  thy  heart, 
Lest  the  Holy  Dove  depart; 
Seal  its  avenues  with  prayer; 
Let  no  evil  enter  there. 

Look  not  on  the  ruddy  wine; 
Deeper,  purer  draughts  be  thine; 
Thine  the  Spirit — thine  the  Word; 
"Drink  ye  of  it,"  saith  the  Lord. 

Keep  thy  heart,  yet  from  its  door 
Turn  not  thou  the  suffering  poor; 
Let  the  law  of  kindness  win 
Sinning,  sorrowing  souls  within. 

When  for  thee  the  golden  bowl 
Breaks,  and  frees  thy  prisoned  soul; 
When  the  silver  cord  is  loosed — 
Dust  returneth  unto  dust, 

He  who  dwells  within  thy  breast 
Evermore  shall  be  thy  rest. 
Keep  thy  heart,  then,  keep  thy  heart, 
Lest  the  Holy  Dove  depart. 
[131] 


I  HEAR  THEE  CALLING. 

I  HEAR  Thee  calling  me,  O  Lord; 
Fain  would  I  follow  at  Thy  word ; 
My  stricken,  helpless  nature  take 
In  Jesus'  name, — for  Jesus'  sake. 

I  cannot  tell  Thee  all  my  woe, — 
Its  springs  are  deeper  than  I  know; 
But  healing  from  Thy  hand  I  take 
In  Jesus'  name, — for  Jesus'  sake. 

O  Name  above  all  names  to  me ! 

In  which  I  stand  delivered  free; 

One  plea  henceforth  my  soul  shall  make — 

In  Jesus'  name, — for  Jesus'  sake. 

My  doubting  heart  is  filled  with  song; 
My  nature,  at  Thy  touch,  is  strong. 
What  shall  I  fear  to  undertake 
In  Jesus'  name — for  Jesus'  sake. 


[  132  ] 


HEART  OF  JESUS. 

HEART  of  Jesus,   rent  in  twain 
By  Thy  dying  passion's  pain, 
I  to  Thee  for  refuge  run, 
Lifeless,  loveless,  and  undone. 
From  myself,  and  from  my  sin, 
Heart  of  Jesus,  take  me  in! 

Arms  of  Jesus  crucified, 
To  the  ages  opened  wide: 
To  Thy  fold  I  fainting  flee, 
From  the  foes  that  compass  me. 
From  myself,  and  from  my  sin,  N 
Arms  of  Jesus,  take  me  in! 

Love  of  Jesus,  wider  far 
Than  the  widest  heavens  are: 
Deeper  than  my  sin  can  be, 
Who  shall  separate  from  Thee? 
Safe  from  self  and  safe  from  sin, 
Love  of  Jesus,  shut  me  in! 

[  i33  1 


"I   AM   THE   BREAD   OF  LIFE." 

HUSH,— hush !  O  children  of  the  world, 
O  hush,— it  is  the  Lord! 
He  comes  to  break  the  Bread  of  Life, 
And  see — it  is  the  Word! 

He  broke  it  to  His  chosen  few, 

In  accents  sweet  and  low, 
Among  the  hills  of  Galilee, 

Long  centuries  ago, 

Within  the  pillared  temple  courts, 

On  Holy  Olivet, 
Along  the  dusty  highway  side, 

By  blue  Gennesaret. 

From  Bethlehem  to  Nazareth 

Our  Lord  and  Master  trod 
Among  the  paths  and  homes  of  men 

To  give  them  Bread  from  God. 
[i34l 


And  then  upon  the  cruel  cross 

He  yielded  up  His  breath, 
That  sin  and  strife  through  all  the  world 

Might  yield  to  Love  in  death. 

But  Love  in  Life — Eternal  Life 

Sprung  upward,  angel-wise, 
On  that  third  morn — that  Easter  morn, 

That  saw  the  Lord  arise. 

So,  hush, — O  hush!     Our  Lord  is  here 

Within  this  Holy  Place; 
He  lives,  He  breaks  His  Bread  to  us, 

And  veils  His  shining  face! 


[i35 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  KING. 

OH,  make  ready  for  the  King, 
And  prepare  your  offering; 
For  His  coming,  swiftly  dawning, 
Breaks  around  us  like  the  morning; 
And  our  eyes  may  catch  the  grace 
Of  the  glory  of  His  face, 

Bringing  light  unto  the  world. 

In  the  pathway  of  the  King 
All  the  world  is  wakening; 
Like  a  wind  among  the  mountains, 
Like  a  breaking  forth  of  fountains, 
Sweeps  a  tide — the  Holy  Breath — - 
O'er  a  thousand  fields  of  death, 
Bringing  life  unto  the  world. 

In  the  temples  of  the  King 
Stand  His  daughters  worshiping. 
But  each  heart  the  summons  heareth, — 
11  Child,  come  forth !    Thy  Lord  appeareth  !n 
And  their  robes  of  vestal  white 
Grow  more  lustrous  with  the  light 
They  are  bearing  to  the  world. 
[136] 


Alleluia!     Christ  is  born! 
And  the  world  rolls  past  its  morn, 
Heaven  pours  the  tender  glory 
Of  Redemption's  wondrous  story, 
With  its  deeps  of  love  and  pain, 
With  its  heights  of  loss  and  gain, 
Through  a  woman  to  the  world. 

Alleluia!     Christ  is  risen! 
Angels  at  His  rended  prison, 
Radiant  with  His  passing  glory, 
Send  the  resurrection  story, 
Winged  with  peace  to  conquer  strife, 
Bearing  everlasting  life, 

Through  a  woman  to  the  world. 

Alleluia!     Christ  is  King! 
Wide  His  palace  portals  fling! 
Forth  in  fair  procession  flowing 
Come  the  royal  daughters,  going 
Where  the  King  Himself  may  send 
Love  and  life  that  have  no  end, 
Through  a  woman  to  the  world ! 

[  i37  1 


EASTER  CAROL. 

IIFT  up,  O  little  children, 
-^     Your  voices  clear  and  sweet, 
And  sing  the  blessed  story 
Of  Christ,  the  Lord  of  Glory, 
And  worship  at  His  feet. 

Chorus 
O  sing  the  blessed  story! 
The  Lord  of  life  and  glory 
Is  risen  as  He  said, 
Is  risen  from  the  dead! 

Lift  up,  O  tender  lilies, 
Your  whiteness  to  the  sun; 
The  earth  is  not  our  prison 
Since  Christ  Himself  hath  risen, 
The  life  of  every  one. 

— Chorus 
[138] 


Ring,  all  ye  bells  of  Easter, 
Your  chimes  of  joy  again; 
Ring  out  the  night  of  sadness, 
Ring  in  the  morn  of  gladness, 
For  death  no  more  shall  reign! 

— Chorus 


[139] 


BENEDICTION  HYMN. 

THE  Lord  be  with  thee  in  the  flush  of 
morn, 

When  life  springs  new,  and  holiest  thoughts 
are  born, 

When  earth   would   draw  thee,   may   the 
heavenly  way 

Shine  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day. 

The  Lord  be  with  thee,  in  the  height  of 
noon, 

When  hours  of  action  vanish  all  too  soon, 

Through  all  the  heat,  the  burden  and  the 
strife, 

The  Lord  refresh  thee  with  eternal  life. 

The  Lord  be  with  thee,  in  the  twilight  dim, 

The  sweet  home-coming,  and  the  evening 
hymn; 

His  dews  upon  thy  thirsty  soul  descend, 

His  peace  abide  with  thee,  unto  the  end. 

The  Lord  be  with  thee  thro'  the  silent  night, 
His  arms  thy  refuge,  and  His  face  thy  light, 
When  foes  arise,  the  Lord  thy  keeper  be 
Until  the  day  dawn,  and  the  shadows  flee. 
[  140] 


MY  SOUL  FLING  WIDE  THE  GATES. 

IT  is  the  Master's  voice 
That  falls  upon  my  ear; 
Why  should  His  word,  "Be  perfect,"  fill 
My  soul  with  sudden  fear? 

Why  should  I  choose  my  way, 

Or  seek  myself  to  bless, 
While  Christ  unto  my  soul  is  made 

Wisdom  and  righteousness? 

If,  Lord,  this  house  of  clay 

Thy  holy  temple  be, 
Enter,  and  let  Thy  perfectness 

Be  magnified  in  me. 

My  yielded  spirit  bends 

Thy  mercy  seat  before; 
Arise,  O  Lord,  into  Thy  rest, 

And  dwell  forevermore! 
[  141  1 


O  miracle  of  love! 

The  Lord,  whose  majesty 
The  heaven  of  heavens  cannot  contain, 

Stoops  even  unto  me ! 

My  soul,  fling  wide  the  gates! 

Let  holy  incense  rise! 
The  Holy  Spirit  comes  to  claim 

The  living  sacrifice. 


[142] 


O  FACE  OF  LOVE. 

OFACE  of  Love,  once  turned  to  man 
In  grace  divinely  sweet, 
What  are  these  lightnings  round  Thy  brows, 
That  smite  me  to  Thy  feet? 

Before  the  dread  revealing  light, 

My  spirit  shrinks  away. 
What  wilt  Thou  have  me,  Lord  to  do? 

Teach  me  Thy  path,  I  pray! 

I  bend  to  bear  Thy  easy  yoke, 

Thou  bearer  of  my  shame; 
As,  list'ning,  through  the  outer  dark 

I  hear  Thee  call  my  name. 

I  hear  Thee,  and  I  follow,  Lord, 

But — O  Thy  grace  to  me! 
The  scales  are  fallen  from  mine  eyes, — 

The  face  of  Love  I  see! 

[i43l 


EASTER  BELLS. 

LIGHT  in  the  darkness, 
J     Melting  its  gloom; 
Life  in  the  sepulchre, 
Rending  the  tomb. 
Morn  after  midnight, 

Peace  after  pain, 
Sunshine  of  Easter 
Bringeth  again. 

Chorus 
Holy  bells,  Easter  bells, 

Silence  all  strife; 
Holy  bells,  Easter  bells, 

Tell,  O  tell  us  of  life. 

Woods  into  leafage, 

Bourgeon  and  break; 
Fields  into  verdure 

Silently  wake. 
Light  of  our  darkness, 

Lord  over  death, 
Shine  on  us — touch  us 

With  sunlight  and  breath! 

— Chorus 
[  144  1 


Voices  of  Easter, 

Words  of  the  Lord, 
Ring  through  our  memory, 

Sound  from  the  Word; 
Listen!  the  holy  words 
Tenderly  blend, — 
"Life  everlasting, — 

World  without  end." 

— Chorus 


[i45l 


THE  CHILD  AT  THE  DOOR. 

'  Behold  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock." — Rev.,  3 :20. 

THERE'S  a  child  outside  your  door, 
Let  him  in. 
He  may  never  pass  it  more, 

Let  him  in. 
Let  a  little  wandering  waif 
Find  a  shelter  sweet  and  safe, 
In  the  love  and  light  of  home, 
Let  him  come ! 

There's  a  cry  along  your  street 

Day  by  day; 
There's  a  sound  of  little  feet 

Gone  astray. 
Open  wide  your  guarded  gate 
For  the  little  ones  that  wait, 
Till  a  voice  of  love  from  home 

Bids  them  come. 
[146] 


There's  a  voice  divinely  sweet 

Calls  to-day; 
Will  you  let  these  little  feet 

Stray  away? 
Let  the  lambs  be  homeward  led 
And  of  you  it  shall  be  said, 
'You  have  done  it  faithfully 

Unto  Me." 

We  shall  stand  some  solemn  day 

At  His  door ! 
Shall  we  hear  the  Master  say 

O'er  and  o'er: 
'Let  the  children  all  come  in 
From  a  world  of  pain  and  sin ! 
Open  wide  the  doors  of  home; 

Children  come"? 


[147  1 


THE  HOLY  HOUSE. 

(The  Measure  of  a  Man,  That  is,  of  an  Angel) 

HAST  thou,  taught  to  look  within, 
Seen  the  house  of  Life  begin, 
Molded  from  the  Mother  earth 
In  the  miracle  of  birth, 
Yet,  like  Israel's  early  shrine, 
Duly  bright  with  the  divine? 
Hast  thou  seen  the  life  aspire 
Like  a  tree,  a  fane,  a  fire, 
Lifting  from  the  parent  sod 
Strength  and  beauty  back  to  God? 
Hast  thou  marked  the  service  done 
Hour  by  hour,  from  sun  to  sun, 
By  the  lowly  Levite  band 
Swift  of  foot  and  skilled  of  hand? 
Hast  thou  heard  all  voices  come 
To  the  niches  'neath  the  dome, 
Human  cry,  or  song,  or  call 
Seeking  a  confessional? 
Hast  thou  seen  the  stars  that  rise 
In  the  heaven  of  the  eyes, 
[148] 


Or  the  glory  of  the  dawn 

When  the  starlight  is  withdrawn? 

Hast  thou  seen  the  temple  veil 

With  the  glory  glow  and  pale, 

Or  beneath  its  seamless  white, 

Half  concealed  from  human  sight, 

Heard  the  rhythmic  murmur  low 

Where  the  crimson  rivers  flow? 

Hast  thou  heard  the  harp  that  holds 

In  its  soft  and  vibrant  folds 

All  the  songs  of  all  the  birds, 

All  the  silver  sandalled  words 

That  the  players  will  who  wait 

Far  within  the  temple  gate? 

Dost  thou  know  the  two  who  sit 

In  the  Holy  Place  of  it, 

Thought  and  Feeling,  born  above, 

Of  immortal  Truth  and  Love? 

Then  thine  eyes  have  seen  indeed 

Him  who  bears  the  golden  reed, 

Holds  the  height,  the  breadth,  the  plan 

Of  the  Angel  in  the  Man. 


149 


IN  TIME  OF  FAILURE. 

(St.  Mark  iii.  5.) 

STRETCH    forth    thy    hand:     Stretch 
forth  the  hand: 
Dost  thou  not  see  the  Lord  Christ  stand 
Where  thou — dust  crumbling  into  dust — 

Wouldst  hide    from   Him,   the   Pure — the 
Just? 

Dost  thou  not  hear?     Dost  thou  not  see? 

At  thy  heart's  door,  He  waits  for  thee. 

He  shared  thy  struggles  day  by  day; 
He  saw  thee  sink  beside  the  way: 
He  saw  thy  good  right  hand — thy  pride — 
Fall  withered,  lifeless,  at  thy  side; 
He  let  thee  lie  a  helpless  clod 
Tho'  thou  wast  born  a  son  of  God. 
[150] 


Thou  hast  no  life,  Thou  couldst  not  move 
Without  the  influx  of  a  Love 
Stronger  than  death ;    but  death  must  die 
When  Love,  its  Conqueror,  stands  by. 
As  of  thyself  stretch  forth  thy  hand, 
And  God  in  thee  shall  rise  and  stand. 

Thou  hast  no  will?     Let  His  be  done 
From  sunrise  to  the  set  of  sun 
Then  shall  thy  new-born  will  arise, 
And  like  an  eagle  sweep  the  skies, 
And  where  thy  hand  is  set  shall  shine 
The  sign  and  seal  of  the  Divine. 


[151] 


A  LEGEND  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

ST.  JOHN  stood  in  the  dusty  mart, 
Before  a  careless  throng, 
Christ's  light  upon  his  lifted  brow, 
Christ's  name  upon  his  tongue. 

With  arms  spread  wide  with  longing  love, 

Like  Christ's  upon  the  cross, 

He  preached  the  life  that  springs  from 
death, 

The  gain  from  earthly  loss. 

"He  is  the  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life, 
The  ever  open  Door; 
The  Bread,  the  living  Water — drink, 
And  ye  shall  thirst  no  more!" 

Three    dark-faced    men  drew  nigh,   and 
one, 

Who  bore  a  brimming  cup, 

Shrank  from  the  light  of  holy  eyes, 

Yet  held  the  goblet  up. 

[152] 


And   cried,    "Dear   master,   quench    thy 
thirst; 

The  noon  is  hot  and  high ; 

The  burden  and  the  heat  are  great — 

Drink,  master,  lest  thou  die." 

The  saint,  whose  crown  of  martyrdom 

Hung  ever  just  above 
The  holy  brow,  yet  never  touched, 

Turned  with  a  patient  love, 

And  took  the  cup.     No  word  He  spoke, 

But  gazed  with  eyes  divine, 
That  glowed  and  kindled  into  fire, 

And  flamed  upon  the  wine. 

Until,  upspringing  from  the  cup, 

A  serpent,  waving  high 
Its  crest  and  coil  of  tawny  gold, 

Fell  to  the  ground — to  die. 

"A  poisoned  cup!"     "A  miracle IV 
The  people  cried,  and  thronged 
To  touch  the  robe  of  one  to  whom 
A  charmed  life  belonged. 
[i53l 


They  knew  not  that  the  Holy  Dove, 
Hid  in  his  heart  that  hour, 

Was  the  " consuming  fire"  of  God — 
The  " kingdom"  and  the  " power." 

O,  friends,  whose  will  and  work  it  is 

To  exorcise  the  wrong, 
The  race  is  never  to  the  swift — 

The  battle  to  the  strong. 

"In  quietness  shall  be  your  strength," 
In  trust  your  victory, 
And  they  whose  eager  hands  will  touch 
God's  work,  must  lose  thereby. 

But  blessed  be  the  eyes  that  hold 
The  power  of  patient  love; 

For  them  the  serpent's  crest  shall  fall 
Before  the  Holy  Dove. 


154] 


EASTER  WITH  THE  LITTLE  ONES. 

INTO  mine  own  this  sacred  hour 
Sweet  eyes  are  lifted  up, 
Each  little  face  a  lily  flower, 
Each  heart  a  lily  cup. 

My  Easter  lilies!     Risen  Lord, 

I  offer  them  to  Thee, 
Each  heart  a  chalice  for  Thy  life, 

Thy  love,  Thy  purity. 

Like  Mary  by  the  garden  tomb, 

With  lilies  round  her  feet, 
I  kneel  among  my  little  ones, 

Who  lift  their  faces  sweet, 

And  say,  "Dear  Master,  take  Thine  own, 

We  give  ourselves  to  Thee, — 
I  and  the  children,  Lord  of  life, 

Whom  Thou  hast  lent  to  me." 

[i55l 


THE  PRODIGAL. 

MY  Father — if  these  lips  defiled 
May   call   Thee    by    that    sacred 
name, 

A  weary  wanderer — still  Thy  child — 

Comes  burdened  with  his  years  of  shame. 
A  wrecked  and  wasted  life  to  cast 
Upon  Thy  love  at  last,  at  last! 

From  years  of  pain  and  poverty, 

From  barren  wastes  of  dark  despair, 

I  stretch  my  helpless  hands  to  Thee, 
Deny  me  not  a  refuge  there! 

Deny  me  not  the  one  retreat 

For  peace  and  safety  at  Thy  feet! 

I  cannot  ask  Thee  to  restore 

The  years  of  canker  and  of  blight, 

For  Thou  hast  called  me  o'er  and  o'er, 
And  sought  me  thro'  the  long,  dark  night; 

I  can  not  ask  it,  Lord,  but  see — 

I  bring  a  broken  heart  to  Thee ! 
[156] 


My  Father,  though  my  heart  be  dead, 
A  look  from  Thee  shall  bid  it  rise; 

I  feel  upon  my  bended  head 
The  holy  pity  of  Thine  eyes; 

The  wastes  and  wilderness  are  past, — 

My  Father's  house  at  last — at  last! 


[i57] 


OUT  OF  THE  EAST. 

OUT  of  the  East  the  wise  men  came, 
Out  of  the  North,  the  South,  they 
rise; 

Out  of  the  West  with  hearts  aflame, 
The  light  of  a  star  in  their  lifted  eyes, 

From  heart  to  heart  with  a  quickened  life, 
From  eye  to  eye  through  the  land  afar, 

The  message  flies  with  a  whispered  joy, 

"He  cometh!     He  cometh!     Behold  His 
star!M 

Not  as  a  babe  to  Bethlehem, 

Not  to  a  cradle,  but  to  a  throne; 
Crowned  with  glory,  and  not  with  thorns, 

The  Lord  is  coming  unto  His  own! 
Eyes  that  see  Him  the  vision  tell ! 

Hearts  that  love  Him  awake  and  sing! 
The  holy  kingdom  within  has  come, 

The  poor  in  spirit  behold  their  King! 

[158] 


THE  TWO  WATCHERS. 

TWO  sat  beside  a  wide  unresting  sea 
(The   twofold  nature — Human   and 
Divine) 

While  trembling  on  the  faint   and  far-off 
line 

Of  sea  and  sky,  a  ship,  with  sails  of  light, 

Glowed  like  a  winged  planet,  softly  bright. 

These  strangely  bound  within  one  sphere 
of  life, 

Yet  sought  their  separate  ends  with  eager 
quest ; 

But  this  one  good  both  sought  with  mute 
unrest ; 

As  then  upon  the  ocean's  rim  afar 

It  paled  and  brightened  like  a  mist  blown 
star. 

[i59] 


"It  drops  below,  'tis  gone,"  the   Human 
cried, 

And  laid  her  tear-wet  face  upon  the  sands ; 

11  It  sails  to  seek  its  own  in  other  lands, 

And  hope  is  dead";   but  the  Divine  with 

eyes 
Uplifted   toward   the   heaven   lies,   angel 

wise. 

Eyes  shining  out  beyond  the  opal  seas, 

As  if  two  angels  through  a  vision  trod, 

Cried — smiling  full  into  the  face  of  God 

"All  ways  lead  to  Thee, — every  shore  is 
Thine ; 

It  saileth  surely  to  Thy  port — and  mine ! " 


[160] 


BETHLEHEM. 

IN  the  world's  springtime  thro'  the  virgin 
land 

Came  Israel  leading  flocks,  and  following 
them, 

Young  children  as  a  flock,  with  one  Be- 
loved, 

And  journeying,  "  They  came  to  Bethle- 
hem." 

Later,  two  women  out  of  Moab's  land, 

God's  pity  as  they  went  o'ershadowing 

I  them, 

Passed  slowly  over  the  Judean  hills, 

And  journeying,  "They  came  to  Bethle- 
hem." 

Last,  when  God's  time  had  rounded  to  its 
full, 

Two  pilgrims  journeyed  to  Jerusalem, 

One  was  a  virgin  holding  in  her  heart 

A  lily,  "And  they  came  to  Bethlehem." 

"  [  161  ] 


O     Bethlehem!     least     of     Judah, — triple 
crowned, 

Where  Rachel,  Ruth,  and  Mary  meekly 
trod. 

One  gave  a  nation  to  thy  care,  and  one 

A  King  of  men;   and  one  The  Christ  of 
God. 


[162] 


IN  BETHLEHEM. 

LITTLE  town,  O  little  town, 
J     With  a  star's  light  falling  down 
Like  a  veil  of  rosy  light 
Through  the  soft,  blue  Syrian  night, 
What  within  thy  walls  can  be 
That  the  star  has  come  to  thee? 

It  has  led  the  Eastern  kings 
Through  their  long  night-wanderings, 
Until  now  its  glory  falls 
Softly  o'er  thy  still,  white  walls; 
What  hast  thou  to  show  to  them, 
Silent  little  Bethlehem? 

Thou  hast  opened  now  thy  gate 
Where  the  kingly  wise  men  wait, 
And  along  a  lowly  street, 
See,  the  star  still  guides  their  feet, 
As  the  kings  of  Orient  bring 
Gifts  and  worship  to  their  King. 
[163] 


Who  in  little  Bethlehem 

Wears  the  world's  first  diadem? 

Look  again;   His  baby  brow 

No  sign-royal  beareth  now, 

But — a  mother's  arms  His  throne, 

Earth  and  heaven  are  His  own ! 


[i64: 


ASPIRATION. 

WINGS-wings; 
To  leave  the  level  of  earthly  things, 
The  dust  of  the  under-world;    the  din 
Of  law  and  logic ;   the  ghost  of  sin ; 
The  eyes  of  prisoners  at  the  grate; 
The  voice  of  beggars  beside  the  gate; 
The  sense  of  something  averse  to  good, 
A  warped  intention, — a  vicious  mood 
In  the  face  of  Nature;   a  sense  more  keen 
Of  lapse  and  breakage,  and  death  within; 
The  self  that  stifles,  and  clings,  and  stings; 
Wings — wings! 

Wings — wings : 

To  touch  the  hem  of  the  veil  which  swings 

As  moved  by  the  breath  of  God  between 

The  world  of  sense  and  the  world  unseen; 

[  165  1 


T 


To  swoon  where  the  mystic  folds  divide, 
And  wake  a  child  on  the  other  side ; 
To  wake  and  wonder  if  it  be  so, 
And  weep  for  joy  at  the  loss  of  woe; 
To  know  the  seeker  is  sought  and  found ; 
To  find  Love's  being,  but  not  His  bound. 
O  for  the  living  that  dying  brings! 
Wings — wings ! 


[  166] 


RESURRECTION. 

"O  life  that  we  cannot  lose  without  so  many  deaths! 

O  death,  that  we  cannot  have  but  by  the  loss  of  so 

many  lives." 

(Madame  Guion) 

I  WAS  a  corn  of  wheat 
That  fell  in  the  ground 
Out  of  the  sunlight  sweet, 
Out  of  the  sound 
Of  human  voices,  and  the  song  of  birds 

Yet  in  the  damp  and  death  I  heard  the 
words 

One  spoken  in  the  dark,  and  now  more  plain 

"Ye  must  be  born  again/ ' 

"O  earth,  earth  hear,"  I  cried 

"The  voice  of  the  Lord 

Open  every  prison  wide 

Fulfill  His  word!" 

But  denser,  darker  round  me  closed  the 
earth. 

It  was  a  day  of  death,  and  not  of  birth ; 

[167] 


And  crushing  human  feet  passed  o'er  the 
sod 

That  shut  me  out  from  God. 


There  was  no  way,  no  choice, 

No  night,  no  day, 
No  knowledge,  no  device — 

Only  decay ! 

Yet  at  my  heart  a  little  flickering  life 

Remembered   God  and  ceased  its  useless 
strife, 

Remembered   the  command   it  could   not 
keep 

And  fell  asleep. 

When  life  began  to  dawn 

The  song  of  a  lark 
With  subtle  sense  of  man 
Thro'  my  dark 
And  tender  sounds  of  happy  growing  things 
Or  the  soft  stirring  of  a  chrysalis*  wings 
Thrilled  all  the  under  world  sunless  and  dim 
With  an  Easter  hymn. 
[168] 


Then  the  great  Sun  leaned  low 

And  kissed  the  sod, 

Ah,  what  was  I,  to  know 

The  touch  of  God! 

The  dumb  earth  melted  at  His  voice  and  I 

Stood  face  to  face  with  Him  beneath  His 
sky. 

And  all  around,  below,  above, 

Was  life  and  love! 


[169] 


FILLED. 

I  BORE  a  vessel  to  my  Lord, 
And  trembling,  laid  it  at  His  feet; 
I  knew  the  weak  untempered  clay, 

For  holy  service  was  unmeet. 
I  cried,  "0  master,  take  my  heart! 

Its  spots  and  flaws  are  known  to  Thee; 
My  hands  have  marred  Thy  work  divine, 
But  Jesus,  Master,  pity  me!" 

He  wrought  no  miracle,  to  turn 

The  frail,  imperfect  clay  to  gold; 
But  filled  it  with  the  richest  gift 

The  human  heart  can  ever  hold. 
And  more  than  mighty  in  its  flow, 

And  more  than  measureless  and  free, 
The  strength  that  fills  my  weakness  up, — 

The  Holy  Spirit  came  to  me. 
[  170] 


0  paradox,  that  faith  and  love 
Interpret  to  my  heart  in  song! 

1  live — yet  'tis  not  I  that  live; — 
In  perfect  weakness  I  am  strong! 

I  triumph — yet  not  I;    I  stand 
Upon  my  strongest  foe  and  sing; 

My  soul  hath  come  to  dwell  at  ease 
Within  the  palace  of  the  King. 


[  171  1 


THE  LIFE. 
"T T  THERE  is  the  Life,"  a  maid-child 

y     W  ScllCl, 

"The  Life  that  went  away? 
It  blossomed  along  my  garden  bed, 
Then  fell  like  the  fires  of  day. 

"Over  the  west  gray  shadows  lie; 
Over  the  garden,  snow. 
Where  is  the  Life?     Does  it  sing  on  high, 
Or  sleep  in  the  earth  below  ?" 

An  angel  spoke,  and  the  garden  shone 
As  a  young  May  morning  shines: 
"The  Life  is  higher  than  all  the  suns, 
And  lower  than  all  the  mines. 

"The  Life  is  far,  and  the  Life  is  near, 

It  hides  from  the  eyes  of  men, 

But  comes  when  the  chill  and  dark  are 
here 

To  burn  in  the  soul  again; 

[172] 


"For  Life  is  God;   He  came  one  night 
As  a  Babe  to  a  little  town, 
While  over  Him  hung  the  rosy  light 
Of  the  heavens  that  came  down. 

"He  lived  as  man — as  man  He  died, 
But  He  rose  again — as  God ! 
And  He  gave  us  on  that  Easter-tide 
His  body  and  His  blood! 

"He  lives,  in  heaven  and  earth  adored 
By  angels  and  by  men; 

His  name  is  Jesus  Christ  the  Lord! 

*     *     * 

When  Easter  comes  again, 

"Come  out  into  your  garden  bowers, 
And  hear  the  blue-birds  sing; 
And  find  your  little  last  year's  flowers 
All  waking  with  the  Spring." 


[173] 


THE  INNER  SANCTUARY. 

"Yet  will  I  be  to  them  as  a  little  sanctuary." 

Ezk.,  11:16. 

A  RISE,  my  soul,  fling  wide 
-L   jL     Thy  gates  to  greet  the  day! 
See  the  "  clear  shining  after  rain," 

The  gold  above  the  gray! 

This  day  thy  Lord  arose: 

The  cloudy  bars  of  death 
Grew  bright  before  His  glorious  face, 

And  scattered  at  His  breath. 

List  to  the  happy  bells 

That  call  to  praise  and  prayer. 
List  to  the  distant  flowing  tide 

Of  feet  that  hasten  there. 

Listen  and  be  content, 

For  He — The  Holy  Guest — 

Hath  built  within  thy  prison  walls, 
His  holy  House  of  Rest. 

[i74] 


Forget  the  wilderness 

Through  which  thy  feet  have  come, 
And  bless  the  rod  that  comforts  thee, 

The  staff  that  bears  thee  home. 

Forget  pale  grief  and  pain: 

Thy  desert  days  are  past; 
The  labor  ends;   the  rest  is  come; 

The  Sabbath  dawns  at  last! 

Lay  down  thy  pilgrim  staff; 

Return  unto  thy  rest, 
Thy  desert  leads  to  Paradise 
"With  milk  and  honey  blest." 

The  Lord  is  in  this  place! 

And  angels  come  and  go 
In  the  broad  glory  of  the  gate 

Through  which  the  Heavens  flow. 

Be  silent,  O  my  soul, 

And  worship  and  adore! 
The  sun  of  thy  Sabbatic  rest 

Has  risen  to  set  no  more! 
[175] 


r 


OUT  OF   DARKNESS   INTO 
LIGHT. 


MY  LIFE. 

"Behold,  God  is  great,  and  we  know  Him  not." 

— J°b,  36:26. 

WHAT  is  my  life?     I  only  trace 
My  being  backward,  through  its 
birth, 

To  the  low  level  of  the  earth — 
The  birth  and  death  bed  of  my  race. 


I  live — fast  rooted  in  the  clay; 

Yet  I,  in  my  allotted  hour, 

Shall  vanish  like  a  storm-swept  flower 
That  lives  its  own  fair,  fleeting  day. 

And  yet,  if  I  may  feel — not  know, 
This  sentient  seed  beneath  its  clod, 
That  lifts  its  infant  face  to  God, 

Hath  other  air  wherein  to  grow! 

What  is  my  life?     I  can  but  wait 
The  springing  of  a  deathless  germ, 
Or  the  fixed  fate  of  flower  and  worm; 

God  may  be  good  as  He  is  great ! 
[  i79  1 


DAWN. 

"  The  glory  of  the  celestial  is  one,  and  the  glory  of  the 
terrestrial  is  another." — I.  Cor.,  15:40. 

THERE  is  a  dying  in  my  days, 
As  when  the   moon  grows  faint  at 
morn, 

And  stars  die  when  the  day  is  born ; 
So  wanes  the  world  o'er  all  my  ways. 

Its  hours  of  brightness  are  not  bright; 
Its  golden  lamps,  a-bloom  with  flame, 
Its  altars  to  the  unknown  Name, 

Burn  with  a  false  and  fitful  light. 

Though  Pleasure  sits  a  siren  there, 
And  lifts  the  voice  that  lulled  me  long 
To  airy  altitudes  of  song, 

It  dies  upon  the  heedless  air. 

Lo — from  the  heavens,  one  by  one, 
The  stars  are  sinking;  and  my  life — 
Mute  witness  of  the  unequal  strife — 

Thrills  with  the  promise  of  the  Sun. 
[180] 


WITH  BOOKS. 

"But  where  shall  wisdom  be  found?" — Job,  28:12. 

I  STRETCH  my  hands  as  blind  men  do, 
And  grope  for  paths  that  lead  to  God ; 
But  men  less  blind  these  ways  have  trod, 
And  found  but  ''figures  of  the  true." 

Far  down  the  misty  aisles  of  eld 
With  all  the  wise  and  good  I  walk, 
And  in  their  silent  language  talk, 

And  question  of  the  hopes  they  held ; 

Of  old  philosophies,  long  dead, 

Whose  shuttles,  plying  in  the  shade, 
A  dark  and  tangled  web  have  made, 

With  no  upleading  golden  thread 

Of  preacher  and  apologist, 

Who  change  their  cruel  creeds  at  will, 
Till  infinite  good  and  endless  ill 

Upbraid  each  other  in  the  mist. 

[181] 


Like  a  tired  insect,  overborne 

With  honied  weights  that  are  not  food, 
I  turn  to  thee  thou  unseen  Good, 

And  wait,  and  wonder  till  the  morn. 


[182] 


ALTAR-BUILDING. 

"For  I  desired  mercy  and  not  sacrifice." — Hosea,6:6. 

FROM  books,  I  turn  me  to  the  Book: 
As  pilgrims  read  the  legend  o'er 
Upon  a  temple's  carven  door, 
To  this  unveiled  Word  I  look. 

Forever — so  the  Fathers  taught — 
Behind  its  quaintly  lettered  gate 
Pure  presences  of  spirit  wait 

To  lead  the  seeker  to  the  Sought. 

I  read — and  all  my  spirit  faints! 
"Be  holy — perfect — pure  and  true; 
Love  God,  and  his  commandments  do, 
If  thou  wouldst  stand  among  his  saints. M 

Thee  only,  Source  of  good,  I  seek, 
Yet  naught  of  good,  no  holy  thing, 
Have  these  unhallowed  hands  to  bring, 

These  lips  no  fitting  word  to  speak. 
[  183  1 


Perhaps,  if  years  of  yearning  lift 
My  life  above  its  earth,  to  be 
A  soul  that  suns  itself  in  thee, 

Thou  wilt  accept  the  humble  gift. 

Perhaps — yet,  Lord,  forgive  the  thought! 
I  stifle  in  an  air  made  dense 
With  sacrifice  that  breathes  offense 

To  Love,  whose  gifts  are  all  unbought. 


[184] 


IN  SHADOW. 

"And  where  is  now  my  hope?" — Job,  17:15. 

THE  clouds  hang  low  above  my  life, 
And  mingle  in  a  murky  gray 
That  gives  faint  hope  of  that  blue  day 
Of  sun  and  calm,  the  end  of  strife; 

While  in  the  closing  gloom  I  hear 

Dread  voices  from  the  holy  Book; 

And  from  the  years  my  sins  do  look 

With  eyes  that  smite  me  through  with 
fear. 

Into  a  land  whose  shadowing  wings 
Are  doom  and  death  my  soul  is  led, 
Bound  like  a  prisoner  to  the  dead — 

The  heavens  are  filled  with  thunderings! 

O  strength  of  God !  I  faint  for  thee, 
For  I  my  worthless  girdle  spun 
In  Egypt,  singing  in  the  sun, 

And  in  my  need  it  f aileth  me ! 
[185] 


1  Not  to  the  mount  that  burns  with  fire," 
(So  sings  an  angel  in  the  dark, 
And  all  my  soul  springs  up  to  mark 
His  voice  with  infinite  desire) 

1  But  unto  Zion  are  ye  come — 
Fair  city  of  the  living  God, 
By  holy  men  and  angels  trod, 

And  henceforth  your  eternal  home!" 


[186] 


WAITING. 

"Until  the  day  dawn." — II.  Peter,  1:19. 

I  HEARD,  far  up  some  heavenly  height, 
A  prophet-angel  sing,  and  though 
No  word  in  all  his  song  I  know, 
I  know  that  somewhere  all  is  light. 

Doubt,  like  a  shadowy  shape  of  wrong, 
Pursues — appalls  me;  but  I  hold 
A  little  leading  thread  of  gold ; 

Therefore,  O  doubting  heart,  be  strong! 

'Through  sunless  seas,  through  cloud  and 
chill, 

The  Lord  from  Egypt  calls  his  son, 

And  Love  in  darkness  knows  its  own ; 

Therefore,  O  doubting  heart,  be  still. " 

O  helpless  human  heart  of  mine ! 
Unweaned  from  thy  mother  earth, 
Wait  thou  in  quietness  the  birth — 

The  glad  release  of  the  Divine ! 

[  187  ] 


DAYBREAK. 

"We  are  saved  by  Hope." — Rom.,  8:24. 

11  T  OOK  up,  thou  waking  seed  of  God, 
-Li    Celled  in  the  prison-house  of  Hope ; 

Shall  spirit,  born  of  Spirit,  grope 
In  dust  when  Easter  suns  the  sod? 

"The  Lord,  thy  Life,  hath  entered  in 
Through  the  rent  veil  of  human  woe, 
Making  complete  atonement.     Lo, 
What  canst  thou  offer  for  thy  sin? 

"  No  longer,  then,  a  servant  be 

To  Law,  for  thou  art  under  Grace: 
Enter  with  Christ  the  holy  place 
Beyond  the  altar,  and  be  free!" 

*     *     * 
[188I 


That  voice   (from   mine  own  heart,   the 
Book, 

Or  heaven,   I   know  not)   through   my 
night 

Dropped  its  divine  "Let  there  be  light!" 

And,  listening,  earth  and  heaven  shook 

As  with  removal.     Cloud  and  clod 

Broke  into  glory — burst  with  life; 

Peace   touched   the   jarring   chords   of 
strife, 

And  all  the  silence  thrilled  with  God ! 


[  189] 


SUNWARD. 

"He  that  hath  the  Son,  hath  life."— I.  John,  5:12. 

STRONG  Elder-Brother— Son  of  God ! 
I  kiss  thy  glistening  garment's  fold, 
And  follow  where  its  hem  of  gold 
Transfigures  with  its  touch  the  sod. 

I  marvel  at  the  Love  that  laid 
.  Upon  itself  the  nameless  woe 

That  broke  thy  human  heart  to  know, 
Yet,  knowing,  left  thee  undismayed. 

But  more  I  marvel  that  the  Love 
Which  yielded  to  the  touch  of  death 
Still  lives — of  all  that  lives  the  breath — 

The  Life  of  life  below — above. 

O  Life,  how  limitless  thy  day! 
I  float  upon  the  blessed  air 
A  mote — yet  conscious  of  thy  care, 

While  earth  and  shadows  drift  away ! 

[  190] 


PERSONAL. 


IN  MEMORY  OF  LUCY  WEBB  HAYES. 

O  FRIENDS,  who  sit  in  silent  grief 
Before  her  vacant  place 
And  seek,  through  blinding  mists  of  tears 

The  loved  and  vanished  face, 
Lift  up  your  eyes,  though  mists  lie  low 

Upon  the  path  she  trod, 
She  walks  transfigured  in  the  light 
That  crowns  the  Hills  of  God. 

We  know  the  sweet  and  sacred  spring 

Of  love  beyond  all  art 
That  gave  her  smile  the  potent  charm 

That  won  the  Nation's  heart: 
We  saw  the  halo  and  the  crown 

By  other  eyes  unseen 
That  placed  upon  her  rightful  throne 

The  woman  and  the  queen. 
«  [  i93  1 


We  saw, — yet  dimly  did  we  see — 

That  where  our  Leader  stood 
The  Heavens  were  bending  down  to  meet 

Her  growing  angelhood. 
Then  from  the  heights  there  fell  a  voice 

Upon  her  inner  ear 
So  heart-alluring,  low  and  sweet, 

That  now — she  is  not  here. 

'He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep," 

He  also  sends  the  morn, 
Into  that  rare  and  radiant  day 

A  child  of  earth  is  born. 
The  Lord  be  with  us  all  till  we  sleep 

And  then — all  labor  done — 
Into  the  light  of  that  long  day 

Receive  us  every  one. 


[  i94 


T 


TO  F.  E.  W.,   1839-1889. 

My  friend. 
EN  thousand  call  thee  by  that  name, 
They  share  thy  thought,  thy  work, 


thy  fame, 
They  build  beside  thee  day  by  day 
The  fair  ascents  of  God's  highway; 
They  bear  the  burden  and  the  heat, 
They  follow  on  with  willing  feet 
Where  ways  are  rough  and  long, — still  I 
With  folded  hands  stand  idly  by 
And  call  thee  friend! 

My  friend. 
They  also  call  thee  so  who  stand 
For  truth  and  freedom  in  the  land ; 
The  sage,  the  poet,  the  divine, 
The  statesman  offer  at  thy  shrine 
Each  from  his  own  fair  laurel  crown 
A  spray  to  weave  into  thine  own 
While  I,  not  having  bays  to  share, 
Stand  mutely  by,  and  smiling,  dare 
To  call  thee  friend ! 

[195] 


My  friend. 
A  round  of  years  ago  we  stood 
And  looked  at  life,  and  truth,  and  good, 
Until  the  place  grew  dim  and  strait, 
But  as  we  looked  the  Eastern  gate, 
Swung  heavenward  and  we  faced  the  morn, 
The  Old  Day  died, — the  New  was  born 
Since  when,  beneath  that  broadening  light 
I  only  bear  the  same  birthright 
And  call  thee  friend. 

Dear  friend. 
Thy  year-glass  runs  with  golden  sand, 
And  thousands  greet  thee  through  the  land, 
Yet  in  this  little  soul-space  where 
We  saw  the  light — we  breathed  the  air 
Of  the  New  Day  that  glows  and  grows 
In  silence,  like  an  unfolding  rose; 
In  this  small  space  of  vantage  I 
Stand  heart  secure  as  they  pass  by 
And  bless  my  friend ! 


[196] 


AMONG  THE  CHILDREN. 


f 


Jfauy  &  z&i&iJ-ti^f  . 


A  DREAM  OF  FAIR  CHILDREN. 

THE  little  Kings  and  Queens  of  old, 
The  baby  Princes  fair, 
Drift  like  a  pageant  through  my  dreams, 

As  down  a  palace  stair ; 
They  lift  their  wise  or  wistful  eyes, 
Then  melt  away  in  air. 

A  child  above  a  missal  bends, 

Beside  his  mother's  knee — 
Fair  Alfred,  always  great  and  good — 

And  just  behind  I  see 
The  six  boy  Kings  of  Dunstan's  time 

Pass  swiftly — three  and  three. 

And  Arthur,  child  of  fate;  and  she 

Of  Normandy  the  flower; 
And  Joan  of  Arc,  the  mystic  child ; 

And  the  Princes  in  the  tower; 
And  sweet  Jane  Grey,  the  martyred  maid, 

Who  reigned  her  little  hour. 
[  i99  1 


rj 


And  see!  along  the  vales  of  France, 
And  through  the  Saxon  lands, 

The  children  of  the  holy  cross 
Flow  past  in  chanting  bands; 

The  shade  of  doom  is  on  their  brows, 
The  cross  is  in  their  hands. 

Oh,  little  children  of  the  past, 
Your  tender  smiles  and  tears, 

Your  royal  rights,  your  cruel  wrongs, 
Your  childish  hopes  and  fears, 

Still  melt  our  hearts  to  love  and  pain 
Through  all  the  dust  of  years. 


[  200  ] 


THE  HOSPITAL  COLLECTION. 

WHERE   are    you    going,  my  little 
maid? 

"I'm  going  collecting,  sir,"  she  said ; 


14  But  not  for  me,"-  she  added ;   "  it's  all 
For  the  poor  sick  folks  in  the  hospital." 

I  followed  her  down  the  garden  walk ; 
I  saw  her  smile,  and  I  heard  her  talk. 

"Pansies,  have  you  some  seeds  to  spare? 
Thanks!     How  happy  and  good  you  are! 

"Poppy,  your  box  is  full,  I  see, — 
Plenty  for  you,  and  enough  for  me. 

"And  Oh,  you  'Sturtiums!     Sure's  I  live, 
You've  two,  three,  four — seven  seeds  to 


give! 


[201  ] 


'No  seeds  in  your  pocket,  O  Fleur-de-lis? 

Why  should  you  hide  them,  dear,  from 
me? 


" Sweet  Peas,  you  darlings,  you  never  hide; 
You  carry  your  pockets  of  peas  outside. 

"Next  May  I  will  scatter  them,  here  and 
there, 

And  hit-or-miss  in  my  garden  square ; 

"  And  after  a  while  the  flowers  will  call : 
'We're  ready  to  go  to  the  hospital.'" 


[  202  ] 


SEV-EN  LIT-TLE  COOKS. 

SING  a  "song  of  sev-en" — 
Of  sev-en  lit-tle  cooks, 
Who  made  a  feast  at  Christ-mas 

With-out  their  cook-er-y  books. 
Be-fore  the  feast  was  end-ed 

The  guests  cried  out  for  more 
And  ev-er-y  lit-tle  cook  put  on 

Her  lin-en  pin-a-fore 
And  served  the  aunts  and  un-cles, 
Till  all  be-gan  to  sing: 
11  Isn't  this  a  din-ner  fit 

To  set  be-fore  a  king!" 
When  the  feast  was  o-ver, 

The  aunts  be-gan  to  cry: 
lO  lit-tle  cooks,  pray  give  us 

The  rec-i-pes  to  try!" 
List-en  then,  and  cop-y  them; 

Ba-by  Bess  can  make, 
With  her  dar-ling  dimp-led  hands, 
This  de-li-cious  cake. 
[203  ] 


"  Pat  a  cake — pat  a  cake — pat  a  cake,  man ! 
So  I  will,  mas-ter,  as  fast  as  I  can. 
Roll  it,  and  prick  it,  and  mark  it  with  B, 
And  toss  it  in  theo-ven  for  Bessie  and  me." 

Lil  and  Fan-ny,  mer-ry  cooks, 

Stir-red  the  pot  of  peas, 
With  a  rid-dle  rhyme  that  ran 

In-to  words  like  these: 

"  Pease  por-ridge  hot — 
Pease  por-ridge  cold — 
Pease  por-ridge  bet-ter  still 
Nine  days  old!" 

Kate  and  Carrie  made  the  bread : 

How  they  tum-bled  over, 
Sing-ing  like  a  happy  pair 

Of  bob-o-links  in  the  clover : 

"My  father  and  mother  have  gone  to  bed, 

And   left  me  alone  to  make  co-coa-nut 
bread, 

So,  over  I  go,  and  when  they  awake, 

They'll  see  what  nice  co-coa-nut  bread  I 
can  make." 

[204] 


Here  are  two  young  der-vish-es 

Whir-ling  on  their  toes; 
When  the  puff  is  light  e-nough, 

Down  the  der-vish  goes! 
Nell  and  Ber-tha  sing  no  song — 

Quiet  little  mice — 
But  the  aunt-ies  call  their  cheese 

Ver-y,  ver-y  nice. 


[205] 


T 


THE  ONE  MOTHER. 

(Cunningham  Orphans.) 

OTSY  and  Tootsens,  Tommy  and 
Ted, 

Each  has  a  queer  little  thought  in  his 
head; 

If  it  could  say  itself  plain  it  would  be, 

'Which  is  the  mother  belonging  to  me?" 

Mothers    and    mothers,    all    gentle    and 
bright, 

Loving    and    serving    from    morning    till 
night ; 

First  it  is  this  one,  and  then  'tis  another, 

'But  which,' '  thinks  poor  Ted,  "is  my  very 
own  mother ?" 

Dear  little  innocents,  seeking  your  own, 

God  knew  the  day  you  were  left  all  alone ; 

Brought  you  by  ways  of  His  choosing  to 
rest 

Here  where  His  children  had  made  you  a 
nest. 

[206] 


God  knew  some  beautiful  mother-hearts 
too, 

Childless,  but  loving  and  longing  for  you. 

These  he  brought  also,  from  here  and  from 
there, 

To  live  in  the  nest  and  its  duties  to  share. 

O  Totsy  and  Tootsens,  O  Tommy  and 
Ted; 

Here  is  a  new  thought  for  each  little  head  : 

Love  is  your  mother,  and  Love  cannot  die ; 

Wait  till  you're  older,  and  you  will  know 
why. 

Love  is  your  Father,  for  God's  name  is 
Love; 

Love  is  around,  and  below,  and  above. 

Many  dear  mother-hearts  glow  with  its 
flame, 

But  there's  but  one  mother,  and  Love  is 
her  name. 


[207  ] 


LITTLE  BROTHER  BUTTERFLY. 

BUTTERFLY,  who  made  your  wings? 
God,     I     s'pose;  He     makes    such 
things. 

Brother  says  you  were  a  worm 
Only  fit  to  sleep  and  squirm. 

Yes,  you  were;  but  now  you  are 
Like  a  flying  flower,  or  star; 
Like  a  spirit  taking  flight 
Through  the  sunny  Land  of  Light. 

And  your  wings  wave  to  and  fro 
Like  a  fan,  so  soft,  so  slow, 
Like  a  fan,  all  gold  and  brown, 
Set  with  jewels  up  and  down. 

These  are  rubies,  pearls,  and  gold 
Dropped  upon  a  velvet  fold ; 
These  are  tiny  plumes  that  rise 
Just  above  your  beady  eyes. 

[208] 


We're  all  worms, — God  made  us  so,- 
Waiting  for  our  wings  to  grow; 
And  we,  too,  shall  fly  away 
To  the  heavens  some  sweet  day. 

You're  already  in  your  sky, 
Little  Brother  Butterfly. 
Mamma  says  your  "work  is  done; 
Death  is  past,  and  heaven  is  won." 

That  is  all  too  deep,  too  true, 
For  a  fairy  thing  like  you ; 
So  forget  it ;  fly  away 
On  a  long,  long  holiday. 


[209: 


THE  SHADOW. 

THE  sun  is  the  brightest, 
The  morn  is  the  clearest, 
The  burden's  the  lightest, 
The  friend  is  the  dearest; 

The  flowers  are  all  waking, 

The  way  is  not  long, 
The  birds  are  all  breaking 

At  once  into  song; 

That  morn  is  the  gladdest 
From  May -day  to  Yule, 

When  happy  Allegra 
Is  going  to  school. 

What  is  the  secret? 

Wherever  you  find  her, 
The  shadow  of  little 

Allegra's  behind  her; 
[210] 


The  sun's  in  a  cloud, 
The  morn  is  so  dreary; 

The  way  is  so  long, 

And  the  feet  are  so  weary; 

The  friend  is  not  kind, 

And  smiles  are  not  shining; 

Roses  and  robins 

Are  paling  and  pining; 

That  hour  is  the  saddest, 
From  May-day  to  Yule, 

When  little  Dolores 
Is  going  to  school. 

What  is  the  reason? 

She  turns  from  the  light, 
And  walks  in  her  shadow 

From  morning  till  night! 


[211] 


WORK  AND  PLAY. 

WHAT  did  the  idle  fairies  say 
To   Kitty,  sewing  her  seam  one 
day? 

"Kitty,  you  are  so  tired,"  they  said, 

"  Drop  your  needle,  and  hide  your  thread, 

And  come, — the  gate  in  the  garden  swings 

To  let  you  pass,  and  the  robin  sings 

Among  the  alders  about  a  nest 

And  five  little — well,  you  will  know  the 
rest 

When  you  hear  her  sing  by  the  running 
brook, 

And  bring  your  doll,  and  the  fairy  book." 

Naughty  fairies!     Why  need  you  go 
To  a  little  girl  with  a  seam  to  sew, 
To  twitch  her  needle,  and  knot  her  thread, 
And  tangle  up  in  her  curly  head 
Your  cobweb  fancies,  until  she  dreams 
Of  ferns  and  fairies  instead  of  seams, 
Until  the  stitches  are  all  awry, 
A  knot  gets  into  the  needle's  eye — 
And  like  a  butterfly  down  the  lane 
Flits  careless  Kitty,  at  play  again? 

[212] 


RELEASE. 

FLY  away,  birdie,  birdie! 
Fly  away,  east  or  west; 
To  the  shade  of  northern  pines — 
To  the  southern  palms  and  vines — 
To  the  land  thou  lovest  best. 

Fly  away,  birdie,  birdie! 

Fly  away,  high  or  low; 
There's  a  flight  to  heaven's  gates, 
There's  a  rest  at  eve  that  waits, 

That  the  wild  birds  only  know. 

Fly  away,  birdie,  birdie! 

Fly  away,  birdie,  here  or  there; 
Only,  hour  of  liberty 
Send  a  little  song  to  me, 

Through  a  thousand  leagues  of  air. 


[213  ] 


LITTLE  CAPTAIN  COURAGEOUS. 

(Off  Etaples,  coast  of  France.) 

PETIT  oiseau,  it's  a  far  first  flight; 
It's  a  long  way  out    from    the    safe 
home  nest, 

What  would  the  baby  give  to-night 

To  lay  his  head  on  his  mother's  breast? 

Hark!  Who's  rocking  thy  cradle  now? 

The  dark  is  creeping  across  the  sea! 

Dost  thou  hear  the  birds  in  the  chestnut 
bough? 

It's    the   creak   of    the    rigging,    pauvre 
petit ! 

The  cradle  that  rocks  thee  is  deep  and  wide, 
And  rocks  forever  from  shore  to  shore ; 

And  babes  that  out  on  the  sea  will  ride 
Sometimes  fall  out  and  are  seen  no  more. 

Captain  Courageous,  thy  heart  is  strong, 
And,  like  thy  mother's,  thy  head  is  high. 

The  sea  is  rough,  and  the  night  is  long, 
But  mother  and  morning  come  by  and  by. 
[  214  1 


DOROTHY. 

(Recitation  for  Children's  Day.) 

HER  eyes  were  blue  as  flowers  of  flax 
Beneath  her  ruffled  bonnet: 
Her  face  was  like  a  fresh  wild  rose, 
With  morning  sunshine  on  it. 

One  arm  was  round  her  " Bible-book' ' 

And  one  held  fast  her  roses, 
I  said,  "Where  are  you  going,  dear, 

With  all  those  pretty  posies ?" 

"Why,    don't    you    know    it's    Children's 
Day?" 

She  said,  with  look  of  wonder, 

"And  there's  our  church — that  pretty  one 

Beyond  the  elm  trees  yonder." 

"Your  day  is  beautiful,"  I  said; 
The  Lord  of  children  made  it, 
He  sent  the  roses  for  this  day, 
And  not  a  cloud  to  shade  it. 
[215] 


"And  will  your  friend,  the  children's  Lord, 
Be  in  the  church  this  morning?" 
She  looked  between  the  great  green  elms; 
Her  smile  was  like  the  dawning: 

"Why,  yes — it  is  His  house,  you  know; 
He  wouldn't  go  away 
When  we  are  bringing  flowers  to  Him, 
And  it  is  Children's  Day!" 

I  thought,  as  down  the  long  church  aisle 
With  Dorothy  I  trod, 
"How  blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart, 
Who  always  see  their  God!" 


[216] 


TWO  PICTURES. 

FRAMED  in  the  oriel  under  the  eaves, 
And  hung  just  over  the  linden  leaves, 
Behold  my  "Guido" — three  cherubs  fair, 
Astray  from  heaven  and  prisoned  there ! 
What  need  have  they  of  the  bits  of  wings, 
The  dainty,  fluffy,  impossible  things, 
That  science  says  may  be  found  as  high 
As  the  paradise  in  a  painter's  eye, 
But  never  higher?     My  darlings  need 
No  flimsy  winglets,  unless,  indeed, 
They  lean  too  far — "  O,  dear  me !     Lou, 
Hold  fast  to  Bertie  and  Dot — all  three, 
Go  into  the  attic  and  wait  for  me1" 

A  "Guido"  hung  on  the  parlor  wall 

Might  be  more  practical,  after  all; 

For  attic  windows  are  unsafe  things 

As  frames  for  cherubs  that  have  no  wings. 

I  hear  them  laughing,  the  merry  elves! 

They're  doubtless  plotting  among  them- 
selves 

[217] 


A  chimney  raid,  or  a  sudden  scare 

To  greet  me  just  at  the  attic  stair. 

They  know  no  terror  from  haunting  fear 

Of  ghosts  and  goblins  that  peep  and  peer 

From  out  the  darkness,  with  thrilling  eyes 

At  us,  who  have  lost  our  paradise. 

And  what  a  chance,  in  that  attic  room, 

With  sunbeams  slanting  through  golden 
gloom, 

To  find  a  "  Rembrandt " !     I  see  it  now, — 
A  ray  just  lighting  the  hair  and  brow 
Of  Dot,  the  dainty,  and  sifting  down 
Across  her  cheek,  and  her  soft  white  gown, 
To  lay  its  gold  on  the  dusty  floor ! 
But  here  am  I  at  the  attic  door; 
I  see  the  midgets,  I  see — O  me! 
Have  I  a  thing  that  I  do  not  see? 
The  treasures  rare  in  my  cedar  chest, 
The  green  brocade,  and  the  broidered  vest, 
The  precious  Leghorn,  so  quaint  and  old, 
That  cost  my  mother  its  weight  in  gold, 
And,  O  my  patience!     The  satin  dress 
In  which  I  figure  as  good  Queen  Bess 
[218] 


On  rare  occasions ;  and  lying  there 
Are  grandpa's  sermons,  I  do  declare! 
14 Lou  and  Bertie,  what's  this — O!  what? 
The  medicine  case?     My  darling  Dot, 
You've  thrown  me  into  a  dreadful  fright! 
Here's  belladonna,  and  aconite, 
And — O!  you  haven't  been  tasting  dear, 
The  poison  pillets?     Well,  leave  me  here, 
And  go  and  play  on  the  lawn  below, 
Until  I  call  from  the  parlor — go!" 


[219] 


SEVEN  LITTLE  MAIDS 

OR 
THE  BIRTHDAY  WEEK. 


FAIR  OF  FACE. 

O  LITTLE  maid  of  many  moods! 
The  dimples  in  thy  face 
Flit  in  and  out  like  tricksy  elves, 
With  soft  and  sudden  grace. 

And  when  I  search  thy  face,  the  smiles 

And  blushes  come  and  go, 
Like  little  drifts  of  gold  and  rose, 

Across  the  sunset  snow. 

Some  day  thy  mirror,  or  thy  friends, 

Will  tell  thee  thou  art  fair, 
And  fairy  folk  will  fill  thy  head 

With  dreams  as  light  as  air. 

Some  day — but,  Ah,  believe  them  not 
Who  praise  thy  pretty  face ! 

But  trim  the  little  lamp  within 
That  gives  the  outward  grace. 

[224] 


FULL  OF  GRACE. 

UPON  thy  birth-morn,  little  maid, 
The  swallows'  airy  flight 
Led  past  thy  window  to  the  wood 
Where  fairies  danced  at  night. 

And  since  thy  little  feet  began 

To  patter  to  and  fro, 
The  rhythm  of  the  fairy-ring 

Is  felt  where'er  they  go. 

What  is  the  secret  of  the  grace 
That  runs  like  songs  of  birds, 

Or  like  their  flight  in  air,  through  all 
Thy  merry  ways  and  words? 

I  fear  me  thou  hast  unseen  wings 
That  may — alas,  the  day! — 

Unfold  some  sunny  Easter  morn 
And  carry  thee  away. 


[225 


A  CHILD  OF  WOE. 

BLUE  eyes — true  eyes,  but  full  of  tears! 
Some  shadow  o'er  thy  tender  years, 
Like  rain  clouds  on  a  morn  in  May, 
Shuts  out  the  sunshine  of  thy  day. 

Perhaps  some  dear,  accustomed  face 
Has  strangely  faded  from  its  place 
On  earth,  but  leaning  from  the  skies, 
Has  won  thy  wistful,  dreamy  eyes. 

But  the  "clear  shining  after  rain" 
Will  turn  the  gray  to  gold  again ; 
And  love,  grown  rich  with  long  delay, 
Will  come  in  other  guise  some  day. 

Some  day — some  day  when  ships  come  in, 
And  those  who  lost  at  last  shall  win, 
Then  blue  eyes — true  eyes,  wet  with  rain, 
The  sun  shall  fill  thy  skies  again. 

[226] 


FAR  TO  GO. 

I  KNOW  a  little  wilful  maid 
Who  swings  her  hammock  in  the  shade, 
And  swinging,  sings  a  roundelay 
As  wild  as  a  bird's, 
And  all  the  words 
Are  "over  the  hills  and  far  away!" 

Sometimes,  among  the  sea-rocks  gray, 
She  counts  the  passing  sails  all  day, 
And  sings — or  sighs,  which  can  it  be? — 

A  little  refrain 

Again  and  again, 
"My  heart,  my  heart,  is  over  the  sea!" 

How  shall  we  charm  the  restless  mood  ? 

Is  there  a  drop  of  gypsy  blood 

In  those  blue  veins?     Ah,  we  must  wait, 

For  woe  and  weal 

Are  under  a  seal, 
Fast  folded  in  the  Book  of  Fate. 

[227] 


LOVING  AND  GIVING. 

rITTLE  loving,  giving  maiden, 
--/     Freighted,  weighted,  overladen 
With  the  love  that  finds  in  giving 
All  the  joy  and  end  of  living! 

When  she  has  no  gift  for  blessing, 
"Only  love!"  she  sighs,  caressing; 
Ah,  she  knows  not  all  her  treasure! 
Love  is  more  than  gifts  can  measure. 

Can  it  be  that  days  are  coming 
When  some  princely  beggar,  roaming 
On  a  quest  of  love  and  daring, 
All  her  sweetness  will  be  wearing 

For  a  day  to  deck  his  armor? 
Lest  some  loveless  love  should  charm  her, 
Angels  call  her — love  her — woo  her! 
Open  Heaven's  gates  unto  her! 

[228] 


A  LITTLE  HOUSEMAID. 

WHY  is  your  work-song  over, 
Honey-bee  mine? — I  call. 
There's  surely  a  cloud  on  the  clover; 
I  fear  me  rain  may  fall ! 

'O  the  work-a-day  world  is  spinning 

Forever  a  dull,  brown  thread, 
With  never  a  fair  beginning, 
And  never  an  end!"  she  said. 

O  blind  little  spinner !  believing 

Is  sight  for  the  eyes  that  see, 
The  Lord  of  thy  life  is  weaving 

A  wonderful  web  for  thee. 

His  hands  have  wrought  ever  beside  thee ; 

The  work  of  thy  days  they  hold, 

And  the  dull,  brown  threads  that  tried 
thee 

Are  turning  to  white  and  gold ! 


229 


WISE,  AND  BONNY,  AND  GOOD, 
AND  GAY. 

DO  you  ask  me  of  my  maidie — 
Is  she  wise? 
Like  the  flowers,  the  bees,  the  birds, 
She  has  wisdom  without  words. 
She  is  like  a  rose  unfolding, 
Love,  and  life,  and  death  beholding, 
With  a  slowly  waking  wonder 
In  her  eyes. 

Is  she  good,  and  gay,  and  bonny? 

Like  the  air 
Breathes  she  goodness,  sweetness,  truth, 
With  her  simple,  guileless  youth? 
Like  a  lily,  or  a  morning, 
She  is  gay  in  her  adorning, 
And  to  all  who  know  and  love  her, 

She  is  fair. 


[230 


IDYLS  OF  THE  MONTHS. 


PARADISE,  O  Paradise! 
Is  it  in  a  maiden's  eyes? 
Yes,  for  Heaven's  sun  and  dew 
Fell  in  them  as  she  came  through, 
Borne  of  Angels  to  the  earth 
On  the  morning  of  her  birth. 
From  its  skies  of  shadeless  blue, 
From  the  stones  of  wondrous  hue 
Builded  in  its  shining  walls 
Fell  the  light  that  sometimes  falls 
From  the  inner  Paradise 
Far  within  a  woman's  eyes. 


233 


JANUARY. 

January — faithful,  constant, 

True  to  one — 
Claims  the  gleaming  garnet 

As  her  own. 

AH,  rare,  sweet  eyes,  that  grow  so  grave, 
-*   J^     When  the  Young  year  comes  in ! 
1  Wilt  thou  keep  faith?"  she  cries,  "or  be 
As  other  years  have  been, — 
True  for  a  summer  day, 
False  when  the  skies  are  gray?" 

Ah,  rare,  true  eyes — too  true  to  trust 

The  young  Year's  silent  smile ! 
Keep  faith, — though  all  the  days  be  gray, 
Keep  faith, — keep  love  the  while, 
For  the  true  Prince  rides  this  way 
In  the  dawn  of  a  summer  day. 


[234] 


FEBRUARY. 

February — free  from  passion, 

Care  and  strife, 
If  an  amethyst  she  cherish 

All  her  life. 

WHAT   if   the   fields  are  white  with 
snow? 

Within  her  heart  the  lilies  grow ; 

And  the  low  singing  of  a  psalm 

Fills  all  the  listening  air  with  calm ; 

While  doves  descending,  morn  by  morn, 

Mark  the  low  room  where  peace  was  born. 

Once  on  a  fateful  time  there  rose 

A  tempest  where  the  lily  grows, 

And  pride  and  passion  wept  and  strove 

Above  the  dead  white  face  of  Love ; 

But  the  long  night  drew  near  its  morn, 

God  sent  His  doves,  and  peace  was  born. 


[235] 


MARCH 

March — so  strong,  and  wise,  and  willful, 

Firm  and  brave — 
Wears  a  bloodstone  through  all  danger 

To  her  grave. 

AS  wild  and  willful  as  the  wind, 
1   Jl     Yet  wise  in  all  her  daring, 
I  mark  her  many  moods,  yet  sigh 
For  the  wild  rose  she  was  wearing 
When  first  I  saw  her,  stooping  o'er 
A  wounded  robin  near  her  door. 

I  love  her  in  her  queenly  moods ; 

I  love  the  graceful  daring, — 
The  free,  unconscious  poise — but  O 
For  the  wild  rose  she  was  wearing, 
Which,  in  its  tender,  dewy  grace, 
Was  like  another  flower — her  face. 


[236] 


APRIL. 

April — innocent,  repentant — 

(Sun  and  shower) 
Wears  a  diamond,  or  a  sapphire 

As  her  dower. 

SKIES  of  April,  dashed  with  rain, 
Are  those  sunny  eyes  again, 
Clouding  with  a  vain  regret, 
Shining — showering — dewy  wet? 
Alas,  and  alas! — we  say — 
Love  is  an  April  day ! 

Though  she  tear  in  twain  with  tears 
His  unworthy  doubts  and  fears, 
Love  and  trust  will  come  again 
Like  the  sunshine  after  rain. 
Love — though  on  April  day — 
Bringeth  the  bloom  of  May. 


[237] 


MAY. 

May — the  happiest  wife  and  mother 

In  the  land — 
Wears  an  emerald  shining 

On  her  hand. 

SPRING  at  Christmas-tide  lay  dreaming 
With  the  flowers; 
Spring  at  Easter-tide  sat  weeping, 

Waked  by  showers ; 
But  through  wood  and  field  to-day 
Spring's  at  play. 

Ah,  dear  heart,  where  Love  lay  sleeping 

Many  a  year, 
Sun,  and  song,  and  apple-blossoms 

All  are  here! 
Love  is  come,  and  Love  will  stay 

Many  a  May! 


[238] 


JUNE. 

June — with  health,  and  wealth,  and  many 

Happy  years, 
Wears  an  agate,  lest  her  sunshine 

Turn  to  tears. 

14  "iy  yTY  Love  is  like  the  red,  red  rose;" 
-L  T  JL     Around  her  heart  the  petals  close 
In  soft  volutions,  fold  on  fold. 
What  strange,  sweet  wonder  do  they  hold? 
My  Love  is  queenly,  fair  and  strong, 
But  will  she  keep  her  secret  long? 

"My  Love  is  like  the  red,  red  rose;" 
No  wandering  wind  her  secret  knows; 
No  nightingale — no  love-lorn  bee 
Has  shared  the  tender  mystery : 
But  at  the  Sun's  touch,  fold  by  fold, 
She  yields  her  royal  heart  of  gold ! 


[239] 


JULY. 

July — loving,  doubting — only 

Finds  her  rest 
With  a  ruby  glowing 

On  her  breast. 

A  ROYAL  rose  fell  down  at  her  feet 
On  a  day  in  June. 

"If    Heaven    rain    roses"    (with    laughter 
sweet) 

"  I  shall  wed  me  soon!" 

Later  she  cried,  "It  has  pierced  me  sore! 

Roses  and  lovers  I  trust  no  more." 

The  rose  is  dead,  but  the  poppies  glow 

In  a  midsummer  dream; 
The  languid  lotus  rocks  to  and  fro 

In  the  sleeping  stream: 
God's  visions  wait  for  the  eyes  that  weep; 
To  His  beloved  He  giveth  sleep. 


[240] 


AUGUST. 

August — loving  once  and  always — 

Wears — if  wise — 
Sardonyx,  and  her  home  becomes  a 

Paradise. 


W 


HEN  May  was  white  with  apple- 
blooms, 

She  heard  a  robin  sing, 

"The  spring  is  sweet  with  promises, 

But  O  for  the  ripening 
Of  the  red  wine  in  the  cherry's  heart, 

The  gold  that  the  apples  bring  !" 

"The  red  wine  and  the  gold  of  love 

Are  mine,"  I  hear  her  say; 
"And  still  the  orchard  boughs  bloom  on, 

And  life  is  sweet  with  May; 
For  love  lives  on  for  me  and  mine 

Forever  and  a  day!" 


16  1 241  ] 


SEPTEMBER 

Chrysolite  on  sweet  September's 

Brow  we  bind, 
Lest  some  folly  or  enchantment 

Cloud  her  mind. 

"^10  fair — so  fair!"  her  lovers  say; 
^J    Her  friends, — "So  true  and  loving !" 
But  like  a  wandering  butterfly, 

Through  field  and  forest  roaming, 
Her  merry  fancy  comes  and  goes 
With  every  willful  wind  that  blows. 

She  winds  her  jewels  round  and  round 
Her  pretty  head  with  sighing, — 
"If  I  were  wise,  and  strong,  and  good — 
But  there's  no  use  in  trying  !M 

Ah,  more  than  wise  and  strong  is  she 

In  love's  divine  simplicity! 


[242] 


OCTOBER. 

Fair  October  wears  the  opal's 

Frost  and  fire, 
Hope  and  courage  in  misfortune 

To  inspire. 


"yEAVES  of  Autumn,  loose  your   hold; 
Nature's  heart  is  growing  cold 


'Neath  her  royal  red  and  gold. 


11  Flame  must  turn  to  ashen  gray; 
Leaves  and  hopes  must  drift  away: 
We  have  had  our  summer  day!" 

So  she  mused  till  sweet  and  strong 
Rose  the  voice  of  Hope  in  song : 
"Life  is  love  and  love  is  long! 

"Love  may  sleep  and  leaves  may  fall, 
But  God's  Easter  comes  to  all — 
Love  shall  waken  at  His  call." 


[243] 


NOVEMBER. 

Firm  in  friendship  is  November, 

And  she  bears 
Loyal  love  beneath  the  topaz 

That  she  wears. 

TWO  eyes  with  constant  question  full, 
Beseeching — deep      with      tender 
grace, 

In  silence  follow  where  she  moves, 

And  seek  an  answer  in  her  face. 
The  home  feast  waits ;  what  simple  art 
Shall  veil,  and  still  reveal  her  heart? 

1  To  say  him  yea  with  eyes  or  lips 

I  cannot  now,'* — she  softly  said; 

"To  say  him  nay  " — 'twere  false! — but  see, 

These  flowers  shall  stand  my  heart  in- 
stead. 

Dear  violets  with  eyes  of  blue, 

Tell  him  I  love  him — love  him  true ! 


244  1 


s 


DECEMBER. 

Friends  and  lovers  for  December, 

Fortune — fame, 
If  an  amulet  of  turquoise 

Bear  her  name. 

HE  stands  where  childhood's  feet  have 
found 


The  woman's  kingdom  opening  wide, 
Her  soul — rapt  in  a  sweet  surprise, 
Looks  out  through  timid,  happy  eyes, 

And  greets  the  world  at  Christmas  tide. 

And  will  she  miss  the  Holy  Star? 

Shall  lovers,  fortune,  friends  untried — 
A  round  horizon  of  delight — 
Shut  close — too  close  this  happy  night? 

Ah,  life  is  sweet  at  Christmas  tide. 


[245] 


APRIL  SKIES. 


SHOWER    and    sunshine,    smiles    and 
tears ; 

Love-light  chased  by  sudden  fears ; 

Frowning,  dimpling,  sleeping,  waking, 

Cloudy  brows  to  sunshine  breaking, 

Sweet  as  April's  tender  skies 

Are  the  little  children's  eyes. 


[249] 


AFTER  SLEEP. 

BLUE  eyes — blue  eyes,  like  April  skies, 
Or  April  violets'  early  waking; 
The  dew  of  morning  in  them  lies, 

The  morning  sunshine  through  it  break- 
ing. 

Is  there  on  earth  a  sweeter  thing 

Than  baby  at  his  wakening? 

Though  clouds  arise  in  those  blue  skies, 
And  tears  fall  fast  like  April  rain ; 

Yet  all  is  bright  when  mamma's  eyes 
And  sunny  smile  have  dawned  again. 

And  waking,  tears  and  smiles  together 

Make  baby's  April  morning  weather. 


[250] 


IN  WONDER-LAND. 

THE  baby's  gone  to  Wonder-land — 
A  garden  full  of  growing  things, 
Of  lady-bugs,  and  butterflies, 

And  humming-birds  with  golden  wings, 
And  there — the  long,  bright  summer  hours, 
He  babbles  to  the  birds  and  flowers. 

What  do  the  blue-eyed  larkspurs  say, 

And  what  the  laughing  troops  of  pansies? 

I  wonder  if  the  robins  stay 
To  listen  to  a  baby's  fancies? 

And  if  he'll  ever  journey  where 

The  world  seems  wider,  or  more  fair? 


[251] 


IN  THE  MEADOW. 

SWEET  sunny  locks — but  three  years 
old- 

Is  searching  all  the  meadows  over 
To  gather  dandelion  gold 

Among  the  daisies  and  the  clover. 
"What  can  you  buy,  my  little  maid?" 
"  Plenty  of  butter,  sir,"  she  said. 

But  see — the  little  spendthrift  strews 
The  meadow  with  her  hoarded  money; 

And,  like  a  singing  bee,  she  goes 
To  gather  now  the  clover  honey. 

To  gain,  to  lose — to  lose,  to  win — 

So  does  one  little  life  begin ! 


[252] 


A  LITTLE  KNIGHT. 

AROYAL-NATURED  little  Knight, 
A  true  and  loyal  heart  is  Willie ; 
The  armor  of  his  soul  is  white, 

And  in  his  hand  he  bears  a  lily. 
So  armed — with  Innocence  and  Truth — 
What  foe  shall  harm  his  knightly  youth ! 

Some  day  when  sirens  sing  to  him, 
And  dragons  bar  the  way  to  Heaven, 

May  holy  angels  bring  to  him 

The  good  gifts  in  his  childhood  given; 

The  silver  armor  of  the  truth — 

The  lily — badge  of  stainless  youth. 


[253I 


IN  DREAM-LAND. 

THE  fringed  lids  of  two  blue  eyes 
Fall  soft  and  slow  her  bright  cheeks 
over; 

As  little  clouds  float  down  the  skies, 

And  shade  a  field  of  rosy  clover. 
Good-bye,  sweetheart! — and  bring  to  me 
A  rainbow  dream  from  the  Dream-land  tree. 

Where  does  she  walk  in  Dream-land  now — 
Her  little  dreaming  puss  beside  her? 

Hangs  there  bright  fruit  from  every  bough? 
And  is  there  aught  that's  fair  denied  her? 

Come  home,  sweetheart,  but  bring  to  me 

A  golden  dream  from  the  Dream-land  tree. 


[254] 


AN  APRIL  SHOWER. 

A  LITTLE  rain-cloud  in  the  skies, 
A  little  shower  as  it  passes; 
A  little  grief  in  two  sweet  eyes, 

(She  lost  her  way  among  the  grasses.) 
A  tear  or  two — but  there,  in  sight, 
Is  home  again,  and  all  is  bright. 

Dear  heart,  there  comes,  perhaps,  a  day 

When  thorns  may  bar  the  heart's  home- 
coming; 

When  ways  grow  strange,  and  skies  grow 
gray, 

And  naught  is  sweet  but  rest  from  roam- 
ing. 

When  walls  of  doubt  arise — then,  dear, 

Look  Up,  for  Home  is  always  near. 


[2551 


c 


PUSS. 

OUNT  the  kittens?     One— two- 
three — 


How  they  run,  like  pigs  in  clover! 
Four — one  more?     How  can  it  be? 

Now  they're  down,  and  up,  and  over; 
Where's  the  fourth  one?     Ah,  I  see! 
You're  the  puss  that  bothers  me! 

When  there's  mischief  anywhere, 

"That  is  Puss,"  says  mamma,  sighing; 

When  there's  quiet  in  the  air, 

"Where  is  Puss?"  we  all  are  crying, 

After  all,  what  should  we  do, 

Little  girlie,  without  you? 


[256] 


LITTLE  BO-PEEP. 

BO-PEEP!     Bo-peep!     Your   eyes   are 
deep, 

But  love  and  fun  are  bubbling  in  them ; 
Your  merry  glances  none  may  keep, 

But  honest  smiles  are  sure  to  win  them. 
Come,  tell  me — tell  me  truly,  why 
A  little  girl  should  be  so  shy? 

And,  dear  Bo-peep,  where  are  those  sheep 
That  in  the  story-book  went  straying? 

And  did  you  truly  fall  asleep, 

Like  poor  Boy  Blue,  in  time  of  haying? 

But  see ! — a  tease  can  bring  a  tear 

To  laughing  eyes, — Forgive  me,  dear! 


[257] 


BY  THE  SEA. 

BLUE  above  and  blue  below ; 
Seas  of  sunshine  ebbing — flowing; 
And  the  kindest  winds  that  blow 
Sails  for  little  folks,  are  blowing. 
Come  across  the  sands  with  me ; 
Sunshine  sends  her  ship  to  sea. 

Little  Sunshine, — so  she  plays, — 

Sends  her  ship  the  blue  seas  over, 
Searching  every  land,  she  says, 

For  rare  gifts  for  those  who  love  her. 
What's  your  wish? — "A  quiet  mind?' 
Ah,  'tis  very  hard  to  find! 


[258] 


IN  A  GARDEN. 

TWO  merry  creatures  drank  their  tea 
All  in  a  bower  in  summer  weather; 
And  like  two  gossips,  in  their  glee 

They  sipped  the  same  blue  cup  together; 

Until   one   said,    " Sweet   maid,   good 
day!" 

And  sailed  on  yellow  wings  away. 

And  then  the  other  wept  and  said 

"  If  I  were  but  a  butterfly, 
My  wings  of  golden  gauze  I'd  spread 
And  touch  the  blue  walls  of  the  sky!" 
But  we  who  watched  the  merry  things 
Thanked  God  that  only  one  had  wings. 


I  259 


IN  FAIRY-LAND. 

A  SWEET  dream-child  with  twilight 
eyes, 

Learned  in  the  lore  of  fairy  creatures ; 

At  one  with  nature's  harmonies, 

With  woods,   and  rocks,   and  trees  for 
teachers ; 

The  friend  of  all  the  elfin  crew, 

Dear  heart,  what  shall  we  do  with  you? 

We  cannot  let  you  stray,  my  dear, 

With  only  fairy  folk  to  lead  you, 
A  fairy-ring  to  keep  you  here 

We'll  make  of  all  the  folks  who  need  you. 
And  then  we'll  love  you  long  and  true, 
And  that  is  what  we'll  do  with  you. 


[260] 


H 


IN  SHADOW. 

ER    eyes    are    brown    as    woodland 
brooks 


That  hide  their  eddying  pools  in  shadow; 
Like  wood-birds'  are  her  shy,  bright  looks; 
And  like  a  sunny,  wind-tossed  meadow 
The  smiles  and  dimples  come  and  go 
Upon  the  rosy  face  below. 

O  skies  of  sunshine  crossed  with  shade, 
And  childhood's  heaven  just  within  them ; 

God  keep  them  peaceful,  unafraid, 

When  night  and  tempest  rise  to  dim  them. 

God  keep  them,  when  the  skies  grow 
gray, 

Unto  the  dawning  of  His  Day ! 


[261] 


FROM    MEADOW-SWEET  TO 
MISTLETOE. 


PREFATORY  SONG. 

LIST  to  a  song  of  the  Meadow-Sweet: — 
^    "  Spring  is  dainty,  and  dear,  and  fleet, 
But  O,  the  glow  of  a  Midsummer  morn, 
When  Poppies  are  tossing  amid  the  corn, 

And  the  honeyed  breath  of  the  Meadow- 
Sweet 

Is   filling   the   fields   where   the   children 
meet. 

Light  and  heat  for  the  Meadow-Sweet, 

While   Midsummer  mornings  come 
and  go; 

But  let  good  cheer  run  round  the  year, 

From    the    Meadow-Sweet    to    the 
Mistletoe!" 

And  here  is  a  song  of  the  Mistletoe : — 

11  Autumn  is  rich  and  rare,  I  know, 

But  O,  the  bliss  of  a  Midwinter  night, 

When  the  fields  are  dark,  but  the  homes 
are  light, 

[265] 


And  undrr  the  nd  Mbl! 

and  mc  mie  and  go! 

But  let  food  cheer  run  round  the  year. 


|x*| 


"SWEETS  I  I  >R  THE  SWEET." 

O  ROBIN,  go  sing  in  the  meadows, 
I  k>,  carry  the  message,  I  pray; 
The  Princess  is  making  a  p 
The  Princess  is  coming  this  \\ 

She  ricks  through  the  midsummer  morning, 
She  rests  in  our  castle  to-night; 

O,  what  shall  we  gather  to  greet  her 
Of  all  that  is  lovely  and  bright? 

Blossom  out,  lowly  flowers,  by  the  wayside, 
And  lilies,  bloom  statelier — higher! 

Let  poppy  and  marigold  scatter 

The  corn-fields  with  flakes  of  their  fire. 

And  meadow-sweet — "  queen  of  the  mea- 
dows''— 

Fairer  and  sweeter  than  all, 

Come  into  the  vestibule,  darling, 

Be  throned  in  a  vase  in  the  hall ; 

And  when  the  young  Princess  shall  enter, 
And  smile  at  the  flowers  that  greet 

The  Flower  of  the  Land  with  their  incense, 

I'll  whisper  her,  "  Sweets  for  the  Sweet!" 

[267I 


A  SEA  SONG. 

O  LISTEN,  my  darling,  to  me; 
A  sleepy-time  song  of  the  sea 
I'll  sing  till  you  float 
Far  away  in  a  boat, 
The  children  of  Dream-land  to  see. 

Three  babies  went  floating  away 
In  a  pretty  round  sea-shell  one  day, 

Away  to  the  Moon, 

To  come  back  very  soon, 
If  nobody  asked  them  to  stay. 

And  the  Moon  rose  and  said,  "  Come  to  me, 
While  I  sit  on  the  rim  of  the  sea, 

And  I'll  give  you  more  gold 

Than  your  shallop  will  hold." 
But  fickle  and  faithless  was  she, 

For  when  the  three  babies  got  there, 
The  Moon  had  sailed  up  in  the  air, 

And  all  the  gold  lay 

On  the  waters  away, 
A  thousand  ship-loads  and  to  spare! 
[268] 


KATRINE'S  WINDOW  GARDEN. 

SUNSHINE  falling  from  blue  skies, 
Sunshine  falling  from  blue  eyes, 
Make  the  Pansies  laugh  outright 
In  the  merry  morning  light. 

When  she  makes  a  mimic  shower, 
Every  leaf  and  every  flower 
Shows  a  shining  drop  of  dew, 
With  her  image  shining  through. 

All  night  long  the  Lily  keeps 
Happy  vigil  while  she  sleeps, 
And  the  Morning  Glory  breaks 
Into  greeting  when  she  wakes. 

She  is  simple,  she  is  poor, 
But  the  wild-birds  seek  her  door; 
And  her  touch,  her  smile,  her  voice, 
Make  all  growing  things  rejoice. 

[269] 


IN  THE  DAISY  SNOW. 

HEIGH-O! 
There  they  go — 
Knee-deep  in  the  daisy  snow — 
The  cosset  lamb  and  a  girl  I  know. 
A  little  tinkle  of  bells  a-ringing, 
A  little  sound  of  a  maid  a-singing, 
Coming  once  and  coming  again 
Over  the  clover,  and  down  the  lane, 
Draws  me  close  to  my  window-pane 

To  see  the  girl  that  I  know  a-bringing 
The  cosset  lamb  with  a  daisy-chain. 

"  What  will  you  do,  my  pretty  maid? 

For  the  daisy-chain  will  break,"  I  said. 

"O,  yes,"  she  cried,  "but  I  should  not 
care, 

For  Nan  will  follow  me  anywhere." 

"Ah!"  I  answered,  "'tis  very  plain 

That  love  is  under  the  daisy-chain." 

And— Heigh-O! 

Away  they  go — 

Knee-deep  in  the  daisy  snow — 

The  cosset  lamb  and  the  girl  I  know. 

[270] 


ANGELS. 

I  DOZED  one  day  in  the  arbor, 
And  waking — O  what  did  I  see 
Against  the  blue  of  the  autumn  sky, 
And  the  gold  of  the  maple  tree? 

A  flight  of  angels!  I  wondered 
If  Heaven  could  be  so  near, 

And  closed  my  eyes,  scarce  knowing 
If  I  were  there  or  here. 

A  ripple  of  song  and  of  laughter, 
The  sweetest  I  ever  heard ; 

And,  waking,  I  knew  that  dearer 
Than  angel  or  singing-bird, 

Were  Edith,  and  Willie,  and  Winnie,- 
The  merry  and  mischievous  crew,- 

Swinging  under  the  maples, 
Against  the  gold  and  the  blue. 

[271  ] 


A  FIVE  O'CLOCK  TEA. 

DAISY  is  a  dreamy  child, 
Sweet  as  sweet  can  be ; 
Daisy  sees  a  thousand  things 

Others  never  see ; 
Here's  the  latest,  brightest  thing — 
A  five  o'clock  tea. 

11  There  were  seven  butterflies," 

Said  the  little  maid, 
11  Waltzing  round  and  round  an  oak, 

In  the  sun  and  shade; 
They  wore  gowns  of  daffodil 

Very  simply  made. 

"  Soon  I  heard  a  tiny  voice, 
And — what  did  I  see? 
Why,  a  little  fairy  girl 

Standing  in  the  tree; 
And  she  called — 'Come,  Butterflies, 
It  is  time  for  tea.' 
[272  ] 


"She'd  a  gown  of  golden  green, 

And  an  air  of  grace, 
From  her  little  slipper-tips 

To  her  merry  face ; 
Queen  and  serving-maid  in  one, 

Standing  in  her  place. 

"Ah,  the  pretty  thing!     She  served 

In  a  dainty  way 
Honey  in  an  acorn  cup, 

On  a  tiny  tray; 
And  the  guests  all  took  a  sip, 

And  danced  away  to  play!" 


[273] 


THE  PEACH  UPON  THE  WALL. 


"f^\  TOMMY,  there's  a  lovely  peach 
V^/     Upon  the  garden  wall, 
And,  Tommy,  if  you  touched  it  with 
Your  finger  it  would  fall." 

"O  naughty,  naughty  Nannie  Bell! 
The  fall  would  be  for  mey 
If  I  should  eat  forbidden  fruit, 
Like  Adam — don't  you  see?" 

"Nobody  told  you  not  to,  Tom," 

Said  Nannie,  with  a  tear; 
11  But  One  has  said,  'Thou  shalt  not  steal/ 

To  you  and  me,  my  dear." 

"O  Tommy,  Tommy,  take  the  peach 
And  toss  it  o'er  the  wall ! 
And  then  I  shall  not  want  it  so, 
And  then  we  shall  not  fall!" 
[274] 


A  kindly  face  leaned  o'er  the  wall, 
And  smiled.     "My  little  Eve, 

If  peaches  make  your  Paradise, 
I  pray  you,  do  not  grieve. " 

And  then  betwixt  the  smiles  of  Tom, 
And  tears  of  Nannie  Bell, 

Six  peaches,  fairer  than  the  first, 
In  Nannie's  apron  fell. 


[275] 


o 


BUBBLES. 
BUBBLES,  my  beautiful  bubbles! 


You're  all  little  worlds — we'll  play, 
And  I'll  be  the  sun,  and  shine  on  you 
By  night  as  well  as  by  day. 

And  you  must  roll  round  me  slowly 

This  way — O,  I  didn't  intend 
To  break  that  one!     There's  another — Ah, 

My  worlds  have  come  to  an  end ! 

More  bubbles!     Those  good-for-naught 
planets 

Weren't  half  so  pretty  as  these! 

These  are  my  ships  I  am  sending 

A-sailing  over  the  seas. 

Another,  and  now  another, 

And  in  every  one  I  see 
A  sweet  little  girl  looking  backward ; 

She  looks  very  much  like  me ! 

And  where,  little  girls,  are  you  going? 

To  London,  or  China,  or — Oh! 
My  ships  are  all  wrecked  in  mid-ocean, 

And  the  little  girls  drowned,  I  know! 

[276] 


THE  "TICK-IT"  MAN. 

HOW  many  miles  to  Christmastown, 
0  tick-it  man,  O  tick-it  man? 
How  many  miles  to  Christmastown? 
And  which  is  the  way  to  find  it? 

It's  over  the  hills,  not  far  away, 
My  little  maid,  my  little  maid; 

Too  steep  a  road  for  the  old,  they  say, 
But  the  children  never  mind  it. 

What  is  the  fare  to  Christmastown, 
O  tick-it  man,  O  tick-it  man? 

What  is  the  fare  to  Christmastown 
For  Freddie  and  me  and  Molly? 

Here's  your  ticket,  the  fare  is  free, 
My  little  maid,  my  little  maid; 

You're  rattling  over  the  road  to  see 
The  mistletoe  and  the  holly. 
[277  1 


r 


And  why  do  you  grow  so  very  small, 
O  tick-it-man,  O  tick-it  man! 

When  Fred  and  Molly  and  I  grow  tall 
With  every  stroke  of  the  clock? 

O,  I  am  the  servant  of  Time,  you  see, 
(Tick — tock — tick — tock !) 

While  you  belong  to  Eternity, 
(Tick— tick— tock!) 


[  278  ] 


CHRISTMAS  GIFTS. 

11  y^V    MAMA,  Christmas  never  seemed 
V^y     So  real  as  to-day; 
The  Mother  and  the  Holy  Child 
Are  not  so  far  away. 

11  For  when  I  took  the  dinner  down 
The  lane  to  Mary  Lee, 
She  sat  so  pale,  and  sweet,  and  held 
Her  baby  on  her  knee, 

44  And  said  some  words  about  the  Lord — 
His  tender  love  and  care — 
It  seemed  as  if  He  heard  her,  too, 
And  that  He  must  be  there. 

11  It  may  be,  mama,  that  the  Lord 

Looked  like  that  little  child ; 

That  when  the  wise  men  brought  their 
gifts 

The  Mother  sat  and  smiled 

[279  ] 


"Like  gentle,  patient  Mary  Lee." 
"My  dear,  the  Lord  was  there; 
Not  only  at  the  cottage  door 
And  filling  all  the  air, 

1 '  But  in  His  little  child .     His  Word 
Says — '  Inasmuch  as  ye 
Have  done  it  to  the  least  of  these 
Ye  did  it  unto  Me.' " 


280' 


UNDER  THE  MISTLETOE. 

IT  was  Christmas  Eve  at  dear  Grand- 
ma's, 

And  Tommy  and  I  were  there, 

And  O,  the  fun  when  the  dinner  was  done, 

And  the  lights  shone  everywhere ! 

When  the  walls  were  bright  with  the  holly, 
And  the  hearth  was  all  in  a  glow, 

And  aunts  and  cousins,  by  tens  and  dozens, 
Passed  under  the  mistletoe. 

All  but  Katie — the  cousin 

Whose  home  was  over  the  sea — 

Who  was  smiling  thereby  Grandpa's  chair, 
As  sweet  as  sweet  could  be. 

Then  the  postman  came  with  letters, 

And  one  with  a  seal  of  red 
Was  Katie's,  and — "O  for  the  mistletoe!" 

Mischievous  Tommy  said. 
[281] 


'A  letter — a  foreign  letter — 

Is  offered,  and  very  low!" 
And  the  seal  of  red  gleamed  over  his  head, 

And  under  the  mistletoe. 

Then  Katie  came,  and  we  caught  her 
In  the  snare  of  our  arms — like  this, 

And  we  sold  the  letter  for  something  better 
Than  gold — 'twas  a  double  kiss! 


[282] 


LITTLE  APRIL. 

LITTLE  April— little  April! 
^     Are  you  bringing  in  the  Spring? 
Are  the  showers  and  sunshine  coming? 

Are  the  birds  upon  the  wing? 
Are  the  flowers  almost  ready 
For  the  Easter  christening? 

"I  have  brought  the  flowers  and  sunshine, 
And  the  early  birds  are  here, 

But  the  baby-flowers  lie  trembling 
In  their  little  beds  for  fear, 

Lest  old  March,  the  surly  lion, 
Who  went  roaring  out,  appear." 

Little  April — little  April ! 

It  grows  warmer  every  day; 
Have  the  Pussies  yet  come  creeping 

Out  upon  their  stems  to  play? 
Have  you  waked  the  sweet  Arbutus, 

And  the  blue  Hepatica? 
[283] 


1  They  are  here — the  very  dearest 
Little  children  of  the  Spring — 

All  in  dainty  furs  and  wrappings, 
Bright  and  brave — but  shivering. 

But  we  long  for  blessed  Easter, 
And  the  sunshine  it  will  bring." 


[284] 


TWO  WHITE  VIOLETS. 

WE  found  them  nestled  in  a  nook 
Beside  a  softly  flowing  brook, 
Two  gold-eyed  Violets — creamy-white — 
And  shrinking  from  the  morning  light. 

"See!  all  the  Violet-folks  wear  blue; 
There  were  white  gowns  for  only  two," 
Said  thoughtful,  tender,  little  Grace; 
But  Alice  turned  her  gentle  face 

With  sudden  radiance  upon  ours  : 
"Why,  these,"  she  said,  "are  angel-flowers 
Come  down  some  blessed  thing  to  do 
Among  these  violets  dressed  in  blue!" 

Upon  another  morn  in  May 

We  wandered  down  the  brookside  way ; 

But  Allie's  angels,  sweet  and  lone, 

Had  spread  their  dainty  wings  and  flown. 

[  285  1 


w 


RUNNING  AWAY. 

AIT  a  minute, dear  Brook,  I  pray; 

Where   are   you   going  ?"     "I'm 
running  away." 


"Yes,  but  where?"     "0,  down  the  hill, 
Brooks,  you  know,  can  never  stand  still." 

"But,  listen — listen!     You  chatter  so, 
You'll  never  hear  what  I  say,  I  know." 

"Never,  never!     I'm  off,  you  see, 
And  whoever  talks  must  run  with  me." 

"Tell  the  flowers — O,  stop  and  hear!" 
"Come  and  tell  them  yourself,  my  dear!" 

"Tell  them  I  am  so  glad  'tis  May." 
"So  the  robins  and  blue-birds  say. 

"The  early  blossoms  are  gaily  dressed 
In  dainty  colors — their  very  best. 

"But  I  must  hurry!     The  little  looms 

That  weave  the  silk  for  each  flower  that 
blooms 

"Will  all  move  slowly  and  then  stand  still, 
To  wait  for  the  water  that  runs  the  mill." 

[286  1 


BEES  IN  THE  CLOVER. 

"ARE  you  the  real  '  Busy  Bee'? 
1    1l     You're  Mich  a  slow  and  lazy  fellow; 
You  hang  on  buzzing  wings  in  air 

To  show  your  rings  of  black  and  yellow; 

"Or  tumble  in  a  dizzy  way 

To  find  the  honey-cups  of  clover, 
While  butterflies  flit  here  and  there, 
On  graceful  wings  the  whole  field  over." 

"Dear  maidie,"  buzzed  the  Busy  Bee, 
Beside  her  on  the  clover  swaying, 

"We  carry  burdens  all  day  long 

While  heedless  butterflies  are  playing. 

"Just  peep  beneath  my  wings  and  see; 
You'd  never  wear,  for  love  or  money, 
So  many  pockets,  deep  and  wide, 
And  every  one  filled  up  with  honey! 

"Oh,  dear!  I'm  hungry,  tired,  and  cross, 
And,  more  than  that,  I'm  almost  crazy, 
Because  the  little  girl  I  love — 

Just  think  of  it! — has  called  me  lazy!" 

[287] 


THE  SHIPWRECK. 

Jh  ■  "iWAS  in  the  merry  month  of  June, 

A      As  I  remember  well, 
When  Polly  Dolly  Adaline 

Amelia  Agnes  Bell 
Set  sail  with  flying  colors  in 

The  good  ship  Annabel. 

"Sit  very  still,  my  dear,"  said  Tom, 
"For  if  you  run  about, 
The  ship  will  lurch,  and  you'll  be  sick, 

Like  any  girl,  no  doubt; 
Or  else  you'll  tumble  in  and  drown, 
Unless  I  fish  you  out." 

"O,  Polly  Dolly,  love,"  I  said, 
"The  day  is  bright  and  clear; 
You  must  not  mind  a  boy's  remarks, 

For  boys  are  very  queer; 
And  yet — and  yet  you  must  sit  still, 
Just  as  he  says,  my  dear." 
[288] 


Then  Tommy  towed  her  down  the  stream 

And  I  walked  by  her  side, 
And  Polly  Dolly  Adaline 

Looked  lovely  as  a  bride ; 
But  O,  a  cruel  wind  came  down 

And  dumped  her  in  the  tide! 

Then  Tommy  tried  to  rescue  her, 

And  save  the  Annabel, 
But  while  I  cried  and  held  him  fast, — 

O  saddest  thing  to  tell ! — 
The  cable  cracked, — the  ship  went  down 

With  Polly  Dolly  Bell! 


*o  [  289 : 


THE  WATER-MAID. 

LITTLE  people,  if  you'll  rise 
J     While  the  stars  are  in  the  skies 
Waiting  for  the  day  to  break, 
And  the  sleeping  world  to  wake ; 
If  you'll  go,  while  yet  the  day 
Only  blushes  through  the  gray, 
Down  the  hill  and  through  the  brake 
To  the  misty  mountain  lake, 
Maybe  you  will  see  the  daughter 
Of  the  Sunshine  and  the  Water. 

Lili  is  a  water-maid, 
And  she  loves  both  sun  and  shade. 
Dew  and  sunshine  are  her  eyes, 
And  she  loves  the  mists  that  rise 
To  the  Sun,  and  loves  the  light 
Flashing  through  the  raindrops  bright; 
Loves  the  rainbow,  guards  the  ground 
Where  the  rainbow  gold  is  found ; 
Loves  the  flowers  that  love  the  Sun, 
Rocks  them  when  the  day  is  done, 
[290] 


Wakes  them  early,  makes  them  new, 
With  a  bath  of  early  dew. 
When  the  Sun,  ascending  high, 
Eyes  her  with  too  fierce  an  eye, 
Lili,  laughing,  runs  away 
With  the  water-sprites  to  play 
Where  the  lily  gardens  grow 
In  the  water-world  below. 

She's  my  water-maid — the  daughter 
Of  the  Sunshine  and  the  Water. 


[291 


SUMMER  sunshine, 
Autumn  gold, 
Blessed  Christmas, 
Bright  and  cold ; 
Flowers  that  follow 

April  rain, 
Good-by  all,  but 
Come  again — 
Oh,  come  again! 


Finis 


292] 


